Promises
by Thoughts Left Unspoken
Summary: After Fenris rescues Hawke from slavers, she refuses to leave his side as they slowly make their way through Thedas to Kirkwall, where her destiny and both their pasts await. AU fic from kinkmeme.
1. Chapter 1

**Promises: Chapter One**

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine but Bioware's.

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><p>Fenris swung his sword in a great arc around him, sending the slavers who had tried to surround him flying. Two of them landed with a sickening thud, never more to rise. The third, however, was not so lucky. Fenris stalked forwarded. He would not suffer a slaver to live. With one slice of his sword, he separated the slaver's head from his body.<p>

A quick scan of his surroundings confirmed that all the slavers were dead, with only the girl they had captured still living. The elf slung his sword on to his back with a sigh. Now came the part he hated. When he had heard about the small band of slavers in the area ferrying their captives to the capital of Tevinter, he hadn't decided to pursue them out of any goodness in his heart. Rather he knew that any slaver he killed now was one less that his former master could throw after him later.

Rescuing the girl was an unintended consequence. It wasn't something that he regretted—quite the opposite actually—but he really didn't have the time for the sort of extended thanks that others he had rescued in the past had been eager to heap upon him.

Still he couldn't very well leave the girl lying there all tied up and blindfolded to boot. As Fenris got closer, it became apparent that the captive was not a girl but rather a young woman, although she couldn't be older than twenty. She flinched as he approached her. "Hold still," he commanded gruffly. "I'm here to help." He knelt down beside her and ripped through her bindings with practiced ease before removing her blindfold.

The former captive blinked up at him a couple times before speaking. "Oh thank you," she said. "I don't know what would have happened to me if you hadn't saved me."

"I imagine you would have already been further on your way to slave auctions of Minrathous, where you would have been sold to the highest bidder," he told her.

She winced. "True that. Though I was trying not to think of it. I was hoping that perhaps my father would have—but no. Of course not. He has Mother and the twins to think of," she said half to herself, a mournful expression covering her face.

Fenris had no interest in staying here and listening to her regrets as his greatest concern was staying one step ahead of Danarius. "I do not recommend lingering here. Who knows when reinforcements may arrive?"

"Oh! Of course. That's a very good point." She gingerly rose up on her feet. He followed suit, wincing as he tried to put weight on his right leg.

"You're hurt!" the girl exclaimed. "Here let me—" As she leaned towards him, a blue light appeared in her hands and Fenris knew just what it was that he had saved.

"A mage!" he all but snarled. He shrank away from her touch. "Stay back!" he growled.

"Yes, I'm a mage. That's why they caught me." The mage sighed in exasperation. "I know, I know. You can't trust a strange mage and all. But I'm not going to hurt you. You saved me. I owe you my life. Why would I do that?"

The mage's voice was soft and alluring, but he knew better. "You could be possessed," he muttered.

"If I had made a deal with a demon, I hardly think that there would have been any slavers for you to kill when you arrived," she pointed out. "It's not that I didn't have offers. But I don't know about you but I would rather be a slave than an abomination. There are some things worse than slavery or death."

Her words rang with truth. It would have been all too easy for the mage to bargain with a demon for her freedom, and indeed she admitted that some tried to tempt her. Despite that, she had chosen not to give in to temptation and instead remained a captive. It was admirable really. Fenris did not know if he would have had the same strength of resolve if he were in her position.

"Now stop being so stubborn," the mage scolded him. "You were the one who pointed out that we need to get out of here before reinforcements arrive. We'll be able to get away much faster if you'll just let me heal you."

"There _is_ no we," he snarled. He jerked away from her. The last thing he wanted was to be saddled with a mage. Fenris limped gamely on and out of the slavers' holding cave, ignoring the stabbing pain running up and down his leg. He had dealt with worse injuries before, and he would survive this too.

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><p>Fenris discreetly looked behind him and swore. The mage was still following him.<p>

The silly mage had been following him ever since he had released her from her captors. He had shown patience with her at first. As much as he had wanted to shout at her to stop following him, he had not for there was only one way out of the cave they had been in. She had continued to trail after him once they exited the cave, but he had reasoned that she simply was following him until they reached a road. Three hours had passed since then, however, and she was still hot on his tail.

It was enough to drive him mad.

Normally he would have been able to break out into a run and leave the slow-moving mage far behind him. However, the pain in his leg got worse with every step. Running was out of the question when it was all he could do to hobble. With it getting dark, it was looking less likely that he would be able to get away from the mage trailing after him.

Well enough was enough. He would just have to confront her now and convince her that she really didn't want to continue following him like this. He spun around dramatically, intent on pinning her with a deadly glare. Unfortunately, Fenris' leg decided to give out on him then and there, and he wound up landing on his ass.

"Ah! I was wondering how long that leg would last," the mage said cheerfully as she neared him. "You know, without proper treatment, it may abscess and wind up falling off completely. You wouldn't like that, now would you?"

Fenris merely glared in response. It was so like a mage to rub in the fact that his leg was not getting any better.

"Look, I get it. You don't like mages. Rather the opposite in fact. And from your markings, which I bet were inflicted by a mage seeing how they're lyrium and all, I gather you have good reason not to trust any of us," the mage told him.

"Given that at any moment a mage can give into temptation and fall for a demon's sweet words, becoming an abomination and bringing pain and misery to all those around him, only a fool would trust a mage," he bit out.

To his surprise, she didn't flinch at his words but rather nodded. "Wise man. A mage indeed must always be vigilant. That was the first lesson my father taught me," she replied. "While magic can be a terrifying force in all its fury, it is also capable of many great and miraculous deeds. And you, my friend, are in need of healing right now, healing which I'm only too willing to offer."

"I am not your friend," he grumbled.

She laughed then, a merry sound that filled the air around them. "You may not consider me to be your friend," she said with a smile on her face, "but I consider you to be mine. I'll always be grateful for you saving me the way you did."

"I didn't go after the slavers to save you, but rather to save myself the trouble of having to deal with them later," he admitted.

"Perhaps. But you could have left me there, which you didn't. Now will you stop being so stubborn and let me heal you?"

"If I agree to let you use your magic on me," Fenris said slowly, "will you then stop following me?"

"Yes," she said so quickly that he didn't believe her. However as it was clear that he was in no condition to get away from her, much less from any slave hunters that might have been sent his way, he nodded his head once and submitted to her magic.

To his surprise, the mage's reaction was to hang her head as though she was embarrassed. "I'm sorry," she said, biting her lower lip. "But I'm afraid that I'm not so skilled that I can heal you without touching you."

"It's fine," he told her. He gritted his teeth, mentally girding himself for the touch of her magic upon his skin and his soul. Her touch was feather light, her fingers ghosting over his thigh as she traced the outline of his wound. A moment later, a soft blue light filled her hands as she worked the magic necessary to heal the injury. The combination of her touch and her magic set his lyrium brands aflame, sending a warm coil of arousal tumbling through his groin.

The mage completed her healing not a moment too soon. "There," she said, innocently unaware of the effect she and her magic had had on him. "All better," she proclaimed.

Fenris gingerly got to his feet, testing the leg. It was better just like the mage had said. "Thank you," he said roughly. "Any debt that was between us has now been settled."

She snorted at that. "I hardly think so. You saved my life. I just healed your leg."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong. My life was in danger albeit not imminent. I have it on the best authority that if I didn't have that wound treated, my leg would've fallen off," he said, a slight upward quirk to his lips. It pleased him that he was able to turn the mage's words against her.

"I might have been exaggerating there. Like I said, I'm not the most experienced of healers," she protested.

"Be that as it may, I choose to take you at your word. And now I shall take my leave of you." Fenris paused. He found himself hoping that this innocent, little mage wouldn't fall into the hands of slavers again for she deserved better than that. "Good luck," he told her. Then he turned around and left.

He had not gone fifteen paces when he realized that she continued to follow him. Fenris closed his eyes and sighed. "I thought you promised that if I let you heal me, then you would stop following me," he remarked over her shoulder.

"That I did," the mage agreed.

"That's what I thought. So do you care to explain why you haven't stopped?"

"But I have stopped. I'm not following you anymore. We're simply headed in the same direction."

Both of Fenris' eyebrows shot up. "And where would that be?" He doubted that the silly mage even knew where they were. She was more of a mageling than a mage, he decided. Still dangerous, but innocent and pure in a way that the magisters of Tevinter could never be.

"Away from here!" was her cheerful reply.

Fenris let out a low growl. The little mage didn't know when to stop. He whirled around to face her, though this time he was able to complete the move without falling down. "You do _not_ want to follow me, mageling, for your own sake," he said fiercely. "I have stayed my hand for now as you have had no truck with demons or blood magic, but I warn you if I catch one whiff of either I will gut you in the space of two breaths."

The mage simply looked up at him and smiled. "Promise?" she asked.

Fenris was taken aback. "What?" he stumbled out.

"I asked if you promise to kill me if I fall to temptation. Not that I really need confirmation, I guess. You would do exactly what you said," the mage stated. "Which is good. Being on my own these last couple of weeks, having to listen to demons in my ear constantly, telling me that I could be free of the slavers if I only bent just a little…no mage should ever be alone, not like that. A mage needs someone who will put an end to her if she ever becomes a threat to those around her."

"That's what circles and templars are for," he told her.

"But there is no circle near us, is there?" she pointed out. "Besides templars…I've been running from them all my life. I don't trust them, not the way I trust you."

She looked up at him with those big blue eyes of hers, and Fenris' heart caught in his throat. He couldn't find it in him to deny her, not when she looked at him like that. Besides it seemed as though she wasn't about to take no for an answer. Continuing to argue the point would only delay them further. He sighed deeply and then gestured for her to walk beside him.

Fenris told himself that he was just trying to be responsible and not leave a mage out in the open, where she could cause so much trouble if she ever gave in to despair. He could take care of her if anything should happen, unlike any peasants that she might run across. Yes, that was it. The flutter of butterflies in his stomach was due to the burden of watching over her that he had accepted—only that and nothing more.

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><p>AN: This is from a fill of mine on the kinkmeme, which has unfortunately become a bit of a monster. I thought I might as well post it here on ffn, especially seeing how reliable LJ has been of late. The original prompt is replicated below.

Prompt: You see a lot of AUs where Hawke is a mageister and rescues Fenris from Danarius. I want to see Fenris have a chance to rescue Hawke. Telvinter slaves do look and go after mages like Feyrinel and Fenris kills slavers. Seeing Fenris sweep down and rescue Hawke and her refusing to leave his side makes my heartache.


	2. Chapter 2

**Promises: Chapter Two**

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine but Bioware's.

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><p>The mageling, Fenris soon discovered, loved nothing more than the sound of her own voice. They had been together for a handful of days, and already he knew her life story.<p>

Her name was Hawke, she told him, and she had a younger brother and sister. There was magic on both sides of her family, and her sister as well as her father were mages. She had been out with her sister when they had stumbled upon a group of slavers. The mageling had wielded her magic and commanded her younger sister to run and get help. That help never came, however, and she had ended up captured. Still the mageling stated that she had no regrets as she had been able to secure her sister's safety. It was a sentiment that Fenris could appreciate. If he had any siblings, he liked to imagine that he would do everything in his power to keep them free.

Fenris only interrupted her chattering to remark that Hawke didn't really seem like much of a girl's name. The mageling had taken a page out of his own book then and glowered mightily at him before admitting that she wasn't very fond of her first name and so she never bothered to use it.

Fenris took the hint and didn't ask what it was.

The mageling was currently nattering on about the different branches of magic. Or perhaps it was an explanation as to why she wasn't that great at healing. Fenris didn't really care to talk about magic at all, but he didn't have the energy to divert the conversation elsewhere.

"So creation spells work well for basic healing. It has its limits though, and Father always said that a true healer has to rely on spirits to perform any sort of healing that requires some finesse," Hawke said as she walked beside him. "Frankly Father could never explain to my satisfaction just how to tell a spirit from a demon—especially as how they're both creatures of the Fade and they're both drawn to mages—and so I never bothered with that branch. Seems too dangerous to me. I think I disappointed Father, not following in his footsteps and all, but I prefer to rely on my own strength. It's safer that way."

She paused, waiting for a response, and so Fenris favored her with a grunt of approval. For all that she was young and inexperienced, the mageling was not stupid.

"But while I'm not the best at healing and never will be, I'm really good at elemental spells. Apparently I'm a natural as one of my first bursts of magic involved setting Carver's head on fire."

That got a reaction out of Fenris. "You set your own brother on fire?" he asked in shock.

"Well not intentionally. And he did deserve it as he was being such a brat that day to both me and Bethany," Hawke stated. "I was only seven, and my control has improved a lot since then. But speaking of setting things on fire, a hot bath would be nice. I don't know when was the last time I felt clean. I don't suppose we have enough coin for an inn tonight?"

"Seeing how the last set of slavers we ran into had little aside from lint in their pockets, no." Fenris' voice was full of disapproval. If the mageling had a fault—aside from being a mage and talking too much—it was her rather skewed sense of morality. She had no problem with looting corpses. Half the time she was already riffling through their pockets before he could even put his sword away.

Stealing was a different matter. The second day they had spent together, Fenris had snuck onto a farmhold, intent on stealing a chicken or something else they could eat. The mageling had squawked after him, completely stripping him of the element of surprise and making so much noise that they were forced to flee. Fenris had tried to reprimand her afterwards but wound up finding himself on the receiving end of a lecture that went on and on about why it was bad to steal from people who worked so hard for what little they had.

To top it all off, after she had finished lecturing him, she had marched off to the nearby river and proceeded to catch a couple of fish for their dinner, which she didn't so much cook as burned to a crisp. The smell was still atrocious despite it being practically charcoal.

Fenris passed on dinner that evening. And breakfast the next morn. He _hated _fish. Just the scent of it was enough to turn his stomach. Hawke must have caught on to that fact—well he probably made it obvious given the face he pulled when confronted with it—and thankfully she never again suggested eating the slimy, disgusting stuff. The mageling was considerate like that.

It wasn't all bad having her with him. While he was no longer allowed to take the things he needed from wherever he could find them, her healing spells did save him the coin he would have spent on potions, despite her insistence that she wasn't very good at it. Her affinity for elemental spells meant that he no longer had to worry about being cold at night for she made sure to keep their fire lit. It was almost refreshing to be reminded of how useful magic could be if properly contained and controlled.

"That doesn't really answer my question, Fenris," Hawke said, rousing him from his thoughts. "Why don't you tell me how much coin we have and let me decide whether we can afford an inn or not?"

"Seeing how we only have forty silver, I don't think there's much of a decision to be made."

"We have that much?" the mageling exclaimed.

"I hardly think it's a fortune. Do not forget we need that money to eat." _Especially since you stubbornly refuse to let me nick food from those who have plenty_, he mentally added.

"Don't worry. I've not forgotten. But I noticed that you're not very good at bargaining, Fenris. Give me fifteen silver, and that should be enough for a room for us," she said. "I've my heart set on a real bath tonight."

"There is always the river, you know," Fenris pointed out to her.

"Yes, I know. But it's hard to warm up the water there the way you can in a bath. Besides you've been avoiding washing up there because of your abnormal fear of fish. I hate to break it to you, but you're beginning to reek."

"Fine," he gave up. "Fifteen silver but not a bit more."

Fenris could feel all eyes on them as the two of them walked down the dirt path that functioned as the small village's high street. They made for a conspicuous pair, a lovely damsel such as Hawke paired with an odd-looking elf such as he.

"What's wrong?" Hawke asked him.

"Everyone's watching us," he replied. "We really stick out here."

"Of course. I doubt this place gets much visitors." She stopped in her tracks. "I guess that is what passes for the inn around here," she said, nodding at a rundown building in front of them.

"It looks likely to have rats," Fenris muttered. "It's not too late to rethink this plan of yours."

"Hush you. The fact that this place is old and doesn't see much business is what's going to allow us to sleep with a roof over our heads for cheap." With more confidence in her step than anyone that young should have, Hawke led him through the inn's front doors.

Once inside, Hawke turned on the charm. "Hello," she said, smiling winningly at the man at the counter and tilting her head to one side. It was an act that Fenris had come to know well. It was amazing the sort of bargains Hawke could come away by just offering a smile. It was almost like stealing though he would never voice that thought to her for it would only lead to a fight. "How much would it be for a room for the evening?" she asked.

"Ten silver," the old man said, "and I'll even let yon dirty knife-ear sleep in the stable for free."

Fenris had come to recognize that telltale twitch of Hawke's fingers. It meant that the mageling was about to open her mouth and get herself into trouble. He quickly interceded as he didn't want Hawke to provoke the innkeeper into rousing the entire village to chase them out like she did last time. "That's unacceptable," he said in a flat voice. "I cannot protect my lady from the stables." He pushed down the thought that it was frightfully easy for him to fall back into his old role.

The man's eyes flickered over to the elf and then back to the mage. "You her bodyguard?" he asked. At the elf's nod, the innkeeper snorted. "Strange to see a lady with a bodyguard but without a maid."

"It was all my father could afford. My safety is paramount to him." While Hawke had taken up the lie Fenris had started, he could tell from the set of her mouth that they would have words later. Or at least, she would talk and he would pretend to listen. Considering how much the mageling liked to talk, it was a good thing that the sound of her voice didn't annoy him.

The innkeeper accepted their tale without further protest. They were given a room in the back, which was small and cramped but had the benefit of being next to the bath. Hawke insisted that he go first. "A warm bath will do you a world of good," she told him with a wink.

He agreed to go first gracefully. Fenris had learned that Hawke was very good at getting her own way, but what was more than that, a warm bath sounded like just the thing his aching bones needed. The tub had previously been filled with water. Though it was cold to the touch, it was warming up at a rapid pace. He quickly stripped out of his armor and settled in the tub, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he was enveloped by the water. It was the perfect temperature, no doubt due to Hawke working her magic from the next room. The control she had over her spells was nothing short of amazing. It was too bad that control didn't extend to her tongue.

While he could have happily stayed in the tub all night, Fenris roused himself out of the bath after only a half hour. He eyed his armor as he dried off. Like him, it could use a good cleaning. Fenris shrugged into his clothes and then deposited his armor in their room with the intent of cleaning it after he refilled the bath for Hawke.

Hawke's stare stopped him in his tracks. "What is it?" he asked suspiciously.

"It's nothing," she said. "It's just that…I haven't seen you without your armor before. You look a lot less spiky without it. And infinitely more approachable. I like you like this," she announced, her lips stretching into a smile as she gazed at him.

Fenris blushed beet red and turned his back to her. "I need to refill the bath. I'll let you know when I'm done," he said roughly. He quickly fled the room. Once Hawke was in the bath, he worked fast to finish cleaning his armor so he could have it back on him before she finished. Hawke was just as inclined to linger in the bath as he had been, and so Fenris was able to complete his task with time to spare.

The mageling frowned at him as she entered the room. "You know, I imagine it will be most uncomfortable to share the bed when you're all spiky like that," she noted.

"We're not sharing the bed. I'll take the floor," he replied.

"But—"

"Have you forgotten the tale we spun for the innkeeper?" he reminded her sharply.

"No, I haven't actually. Might I point out that I didn't appreciate the way you interrupted me? I was about to tell that nasty old man where he could stick his insults and—"

"Get us chased out of town…again. And then I would have to listen to your complaints for the next day or three about how much I smell. Thank you, but no."

"I wouldn't have complained all that much. I would have made certain to stand upwind of you like I did today."

He raised an eyebrow at her assertion but let it pass. "In any event, I shall take the floor."

"But it was your coin that paid for the room!"

"Then I should get to choose where I want to sleep and I choose the floor."

Hawke crinkled her nose up at him. "You can be very stubborn, you know."

"Ha! That's ironic coming from you," he snorted. The mageling in front of him was without a doubt the most stubborn person he ever come across.

"Fine," she said, "but next time, you'll get the bed."

"We'll see," was all he said as he settled down to sleep.

They were up early again the next morning as they were eager to be on their way once more. They had no set destination in mind, their only goal to be further away from any pursuers. Fenris had asked Hawke once if she would like to return to her home, but she had sadly told him that her father would have moved their family after her capture to protect them. As such, they had decided between the two of them just to follow the sun east.

In retrospect, taking the innocent but headstrong mageling into Antiva wasn't the best idea Fenris ever had.


	3. Chapter 3

**Promises: Chapter Three**

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

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><p>Fenris started to notice differences in their surroundings after about a week and a half of traveling. The space between farms shrunk while the amount of cultivated land grew. Villages appeared more often and were larger too. He reached the conclusion that they had left the borderlands that didn't really belong to any country behind. "Hmm…it appears that we've now crossed into Antiva proper," he remarked in passing. That was all the invitation Hawke needed to start babbling on a new subject.<p>

"Oh! Are we?" she said brightly. "I haven't ever been to Antiva, you know. Actually I've never been outside of Ferelden…well, not till the slavers caught me but that doesn't really count. I mean, it wasn't as though I got to see anything or even know where I was at. So I guess there's a chance I was here before and I didn't know it, but that's hardly the point.

Fenris resisted the urge to ask if the mageling ever had a point.

"I saw an Antivan ship once, though. In the harbor at Denerim. It looked different from Ferelden ships, all graceful and airy. I wonder if traveling by a ship like that wouldn't be bad. Boats aren't my thing, you know. I got dreadfully sick the one time my family had to take one. But to ride on something that is really a ship and not just a glorified washtub…it would have to be better, I think. Don't you?"

Before Fenris could even draw breath to answer, the mageling did so for him. "Oh! What am I thinking? Being on a ship in the middle of the ocean surrounded by fish—of course you would hate that. Nothing could make that better for you. Stupid question, sorry I asked. I can think of something better. Let me see…have you ever been to Antiva?"

"No," he replied shortly.

"Oh?" Hawke looked hopefully at him. Fenris repressed a sigh and decided to indulge the mageling's curiosity for once.

"My former master did not often leave his seat of power," the elf explained. "He only ventured out for great reward or when it was required of him. He especially would not ever visit Antiva for fear that one of his many enemies would offer a large enough bounty to tempt a master assassin to try their luck killing him."

"Is that so? He must be a real coward," she noted.

"Indeed," Fenris said and fell silent again. Hawke took up the reins of the conversation without any prodding. He let her chatter on. Fenris had once taken her to task for never giving him a moment of silence. The mageling had bit her tongue and looked away before confessing it unsettled her when it was quiet. She wasn't used to it, coming from a rambunctious family like she did. The broken look on her face made Fenris feel like a monster. He never raised the subject again. It was easy enough for him to tune her out, particularly as she usually didn't insist on he participate, and he preferred to be around a happy Hawke.

He couldn't help but speak up once more, however, after Hawke went on and on about how Antiva might be like. "This may be my first time in Antiva," he said, interrupting a rather fanciful spiel of hers, "but I have heard of it from other slaves who had been stolen away from their homes here."

"So what did they say?" Hawke asked.

"They missed their home a lot," Fenris replied. "So much that I wondered whether their descriptions of Antiva were colored by that feeling."

"Meaning they sounded too good to be true?"

"Exactly. They spoke of vibrant canals and towering spires. I was told more than once that the Imperium seemed downright dowdy and dreary compared to the lush beauty of Antiva." Fenris shrugged his shoulders. "But I suppose Antiva has one clear advantage over Tevinter, and that is the fact that it is not ruled by magisters."

"Sometimes I get the feeling that you are not very fond of your homeland," the mageling remarked quietly.

"I don't like what it is," was Fenris' reply. "Besides your descriptions of Ferelden are none too appealing. You say it's cold and muddy and smells of wet dog," he pointed out.

"It is cold and muddy and all of that. But I miss it still." A sad smile crossed her face. "My wet dog most of all."

"You had a mabari?" Fenris asked. The fierce dogs kept by Fereldans were known even as far north as Tevinter, but Fenris had been under the impression that they were a mark of nobility. From Hawke's descriptions, it was apparent that her family was not well off and so he wouldn't have expected them to keep a mabari.

"Yes, actually. We lucked out. Rex was the runt of the litter, and so when he tried to follow me home, the owner was happy to see the last of him," Hawke explained.

Evidently walking away with an unwanted mabari wasn't stealing in Hawke's book. Fenris filed that fact away for later use.

"Don't give me that look!" Hawke said suddenly. "I know what you're thinking, and it's not like that. Mabari aren't like other dogs. They choose which person they want to follow. Once a mabari has imprinted on someone, there isn't much you can do to convince the mabari to leave that person alone." She looked down at her hands. "I do hope Rex is all right. He probably misses me so."

Fenris said nothing for he did not know what to say. Hawke's entire family most likely missed her, even the brother who she set on fire. Pointing out that fact, however, would be of little comfort to her. Rather it would have the opposite effect, and Fenris thought that silence was the best option open to him.

Later that afternoon, when they had stopped at an inn for a meal, Fenris wondered what it would take for Hawke to break from her strict code and allow him to obtain food for them using alternate measures. Meals at inns kept getting pricier, despite Hawke's bargaining skills, and they were running out of funds fast. Of course, his dietary restrictions didn't exactly help with keeping those costs down. The usual specials offered by Antivan inns were either fish stew or baked eel, and Fenris refused to eat either as a matter of principle.

Not that Hawke wasn't guilty of the same. He grinned a bit as he remembered the one time she had tried the baked eel only to spit it out with a look of disgust dawning on her face. His mageling wouldn't have eaten at all that night if he hadn't taken pity on her and insisted that she finish off the remains of his mutton.

"Considering how much they charged us for this slop, you think we would get more," Hawke muttered under her breath.

Fenris raised an eyebrow. "Be careful what you wish for. Are you sure you could stomach more than what's on your plate?" he warned her.

"Fair point," she said. Before Hawke could say anything else, the pair was interrupted by a burly man looming over the side of their table.

"Is your elf's sword real or just for show?" the man grunted.

Fenris curled his lip. Whenever people looked at the pair, they tended to see Hawke's bedraggled mage robes and then assume she was an impoverished noble while he was her sole remaining servant. While it was a useful disguise, it was one he hated nonetheless. The only thing that made it bearable was that Hawke herself detested such assumptions.

"Is that sword real? Of course not," was Hawke's reply. "I couldn't give Fenris a real sword. He might do something dangerous with it like lop off the head of the idiot who decides it's perfectly fine to interrupt our meal."

From the dull glaze in the man's eyes, Fenris could tell that Hawke's sarcasm had gone over his head. He sighed. "What my lady means to say," he said, "is that yes, the sword is real but why are you asking."

The man stood there for a minute pouring over Fenris' words. "Oh. That's good," he finally said. "I have a job for your elf then," he told Hawke.

"And what would that entail?" Fenris asked before Hawke could open her mouth to insert her foot. She glowered at him from across the table, not happy with him taking over the conversation. It was sort of cute how she thought she was intimidating.

"There's a pack of corrupted spiders that's been raiding my livestock. I'll pay you five silver to slay them all."

"Five silver? Are you mad?" Hawke blurted out before Fenris could say a thing. "For a pack of spiders, we would want a sovereign a head."

"A sovereign a head?" The man's mouth dropped open. "If anyone's mad, little lady, it's you. I'm lucky to see that much coin each month. You'll bleed me dry, you will."

And just like that, the bargaining began in earnest. Fenris was content to let Hawke take the lead. She accused the burly man of being an epic tightwad while he insisted that she was trying to leave him penniless and forced to take refuge in the poorhouse. Fenris had to hand it to Hawke; she knew how to drive a hard bargain. If he didn't know better, he would assume that she was the daughter of a merchant, not an apostate.

Hawke had just about settled on the price of twenty silver a head, when Fenris decided it was time add his input. "There's something you're not telling us, isn't there?" he said. "There's no reason that you can't handle a pack of spiders yourself. What is it that you're holding back?"

The big man gaped at Fenris. "You're as mad as she," he gasped out. "Me? Handle a pack of spiders myself? I'm a farmer, not a fighter."

The man's shock seemed genuine. Fenris mused that his fellow slaves hadn't been exaggerating when they spoke of how incompetent most Antivans were when it came to fighting as being the main reason why Antiva didn't have a standing army the way other nations did. He wondered if perhaps they hadn't been pulling his leg when they spoke of how women were treated as well.

"Let's make it twenty-five silver then." Hawke was quick to pounce on any advantage. "With the extra five silver to cover any unexpected contingencies."

"You're a heartless wench," the man exclaimed. "But twenty-five silver it is. When can your elf take care of them?"

Hawke glanced over at Fenris. He shrugged his shoulders and then rose to his feet. "Might as well do it now. There's still light out."

"Sounds like a plan to me." Hawke leapt up to her feet. "We'll be back before you know it," she told the farmer.

"We?" he repeated. "Aren't you staying here? Not that I'm doubting your elf's skills, but isn't it a bit dangerous for you to accompany him?"

And there it was Antiva's unique brand of sexism. "Of course she's coming with me," Fenris said quickly. "You admitted to us that you cannot defend yourself against a pack of animals so I can't depend on you to guard my lady while I'm gone. She is coming with me so I can keep an eye on her." He latched on to Hawke's arm and dragged her out of the inn before she could find a way to get herself into trouble again. If there was one thing he had learned about his mageling in the time that they had been together, it was that she had an unholy talent for ferreting out trouble.

"What was that all about?" Hawke asked after they were out of sight from the inn and well on their way to the field the farmer had told them about.

"It's an Antivan peculiarity. In addition to Antivans not being able to fight, they believe that women are delicate, fragile creatures that need to be sheltered from the world," Fenris explained.

"Huh. Is that it? And here I thought that perhaps the hunters had caught up to us and this was some sort of elaborate trap to separate the two of us," Hawke said.

Fenris winced. He hadn't thought of that, and usually he was the more paranoid of the two of them. "It may be a trap at that," he said finally. "But it might not be and we could use the coin. So we will still go check out this farmer's field but we'll keep an eye out for hunters. Which means you have to be cautious."

"Aren't I always?" Hawke flippantly replied. "Besides either way, we're going to get paid. If there really is a pack of spiders out there, then we'll kill them and that farmer will pay us. On the other hand, if a bunch of slavers are lying in wait for us, then we'll kill them and take their stuff."

Silently Fenris wondered if he had been a bad influence on the mageling. He could have sworn she hadn't been this vicious or paranoid before. But he didn't really have time to linger over the issue for they had things to kill and coin to earn, one way or another.

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><p>It turned out that the farmer hadn't been lying. Fenris and Hawke found a pack of seven spiders on the outskirts of the field that the farmer had directed them to. Between Fenris' blade and Hawke's magic, they made short work of the bunch.<p>

"And I think we might have a problem," said Hawke after they had finished. "That farmer is paying us per head. How do we prove to him that we killed seven of these blighted things? We can't just go back and fetch him because the carcasses might be gone by the time we return and then where would we be?"

"Take the fangs," Fenris advised. "That will function as our proof, and what's more we might be able to sell them too."

"Now that's a practical solution. Would have never thought of that myself. There's just one problem."

Of course the mageling found a problem. She excelled at finding problems—and when she couldn't find them, she made them. "Let me guess. You don't fancy reaching into their mouths to take out the fangs," he said deadpan.

"Exactly!" Hawke cried. "It doesn't seem very sanitary and actually it could be quite hazardous as I swear at least one of these spiders were poisonous and—"

Fenris rolled his eyes and knelt down beside the mageling. "Let me," he said. "This is what knives are for," he added. "To cut the fangs out. We should get you one."

"The gauntlets help too, I expect. To protect you against accidentally cutting yourself on your knife or the spider fang."

"There is that. Here." Fenris tossed the fang he had cut out to the ground. "I'll finish harvesting the rest while you pack them up. Wear a pair of gloves when you handle them."

The mageling rolled her eyes at his instructions but did what he said without making any more smart remarks. Before long, they finished collecting the spider fangs and then returned to the inn. The farmer promptly paid them the promised bounty upon spying the fangs. However, he insisted on keeping them, claiming that had been an unspoken part of their bargain all along. To Fenris' surprise, the mageling didn't argue the point.

He asked her about it later as they were walking away from the village. "I thought you would have insisted on the farmer paying for the fangs we brought him," he said.

"Wasn't worth the battle," Hawke replied. "Besides I felt bad the way I got five silver more out of him after you started interrogating him about hiding something from us. It turned out that the job was as he said all along and so…well you may think this is silly of me, but I kind of felt like we didn't earn that extra coin."

"But if the farmer had been hiding something from us—" Fenris started to say.

"In that case, I would have insisted on him paying us for the fangs," Hawke told him.

"I see," said Fenris and then let the matter drop between them.

The pair continued to find small jobs that prevented their coin purse from being empty as they kept traveling east. Fenris' sword would draw glances, and inevitably someone would approach Hawke to see if the elf could take care of a problem for them. It soon became almost a routine for the two. Hawke would take charge and bargain with their potential employer to get the best price for their services. Once the price was settled and it was time to leave, Fenris would insist that Hawke accompany him so that he could personally guarantee her safety.

Alas the mageling liked to veer off script when it pleased her.

"Oh I couldn't stay here," Hawke said to the pair of fisherman trying to hire them. "I have to go with Fenris. To cheer him on, you see. He doesn't fight half as well if I'm not there to rouse his spirits."

The men looked blankly at her, and Fenris was struck with the urge bang his head against the nearest wall. Why did the mageling like to make things difficult?

"Besides, I hate to say it, but he has no sense of direction. If I let him go off on his own, who knows where he would wind up? He probably would get lost on his way out the door."

That was a bit much, Fenris felt. After he had dragged her away from the other men, he gave her a piece of his mind. "You have to cheer me on?" he bit out, repeating her words from earlier. "I'll get lost without you? Tell me, does it please you to paint me as utterly incompetent without you?"

"When you put it that way…but no, that wasn't my intention. I just got bored with our usual routine and so I decided to liven things up."

He scoffed at her explanation. "Perhaps. But perhaps the real reason is that you enjoy tormenting me." Fenris reflected that would certainly explain why the mageling always had a smart reply at the ready.

Hawke laughed and skipped forward a step before turning to face him. Her eyes twinkled at him with merriment. "Very close, Fenris, but not quite. Would you like to know the truth?"

He elected to cross his arms and glare at the unrepentant mageling.

She smiled cheekily up at him. "It's because I know you'll lecture me afterwards. And when you go into lecture mode, your voice drops and it's just—" She sighed. "You have the most beautiful voice, Fenris. I wish you would talk more. Maker knows I keep trying to draw you into a conversation. If you ever want me to shut up…well now you know how."

That night, as they slept out under the stars, separated only by a few feet and the remnants of a fire, Fenris wondered if the mageling would be so quick to flirt with him if she had any idea the sort of effect it had upon him. He doubted that she knew what she did to him. The way she so innocently spoke of him knowing how best to shut her up—she obviously meant for him to speak up more but his thoughts had leapt to covering her mouth with his and kissing her hard till she was left breathless. And no, his fantasies did not stop there.

He turned over on the ground so that he no longer faced the mageling. He found it slightly…disturbing that a mage could inspire such feelings in him. Of course, Hawke wasn't like any other mage he had ever met. If all mages were like her, then there wouldn't be an Imperium, he wouldn't have ever been a slave, and the two of them would have never met.

That last distressed him more than it should. He had first agreed to let Hawke tag along mainly because she wouldn't take no for an answer. He had expected that eventually she would grow tired and they would part ways. But that hadn't come to pass. Instead she stuck by him, and the more time he spent with her, the more he grew to admire her. Hawke talked too much, had an annoying personal code that contradicted itself several times over, and on top of all that was a mage to boot, but despite all that, he was beginning to have trouble imagining life without her. For all that he despised magisters and feared their magic, he found that he could not hate her.

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> Thanks to everyone who left reviews. :D Reading through them really made my day.


	4. Chapter 4

**Promises: Chapter Four**

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

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><p>The pair continued their trek eastwards, with villages becoming towns and towns becoming cities. As their path took them to increasingly populated locales, it became inevitable that the pair would eventually run into templars. While templars were concentrated near circles, they did travel the countryside, scouring for apostates and picking up children who showed signs of magic. It was somewhat of a small miracle that they only crossed the templars path when they reached the town of Seleny.<p>

Fenris and Hawke were on their way to the market to purchase foodstuffs for their journey. Eating warm meals at an inn had become a luxury they had mutually decided they could do without. Most nights they made do with cold rations although there were times when they would cook. Or rather Fenris would cook. He had forbidden Hawke from having anything to do with preparing their meals after he watched her make stew one evening. Throwing perfectly good ingredients into a pot and letting them boil until they were the same icky color did not qualify as cooking in Fenris' world.

They were nearing the market when all of a sudden a ruckus erupted from a side street. Fenris turned towards the disruption, craning his neck to peer over the crowd. He could make out the form of five, heavily-armored men, easily identifiable as templars by their shields, swarming around a disheveled shack.

Just then Hawke shoved up against him. He was taken aback by the unexpected sensation of her pressed so close to him, but before he could draw breath to scold her or even step away from her, he noticed something.

Hawke was terrified.

She was trembling like a leaf, and her eyes were wide with fear. Fenris was put in mind of a slave about to be punished when the only acceptable punishment was death. It was disturbing to see such an expression on Hawke's face. Gritting his teeth, he ignored his instincts, which were screaming at him to push her away. Instead he reached out his arm and drew her against his chest, turning her around as he did so that she didn't have to watch the scene unfolding before them.

For the templars had come to remove a mage child from his family before the child could harm anyone close to him. It was not an easy task as the child's family was protesting strenuously, with his mother sobbing frantically while his father vehemently cursed the templars to the void. Fenris admired the resolve of the men before them as they completed their task despite the growing tension and seeping hatred from the crowd around them. Eventually the templars wrested the child from his mother's grasp and took him away. As they left with the child in hand, the templar hunter who led the group scanned the crowd which had gathered appraisingly, his eyes flickering over them as though searching for threats.

Of course, if the templars knew about Hawke, they would see fit to remove her from Fenris' side as well. Perhaps it was hypocritical for him to think the templars were performing a service in taking the mage child to the circle all the while believing that Hawke should be left alone. But then Hawke wasn't like other mages, he reasoned. It wasn't just that she was possessed of a kind heart. No, Hawke had more control over her magic as well as a loyalty to a strict code that had been drilled into her by her father. Other mages needed the circle to provide such discipline; Hawke seemed fine without.

"They're gone now," he told her once the templars were out of sight, his voice pitched low so that no one else would hear him.

She stepped away from him. "Thank you," she said. "I'm sorry. I know that you don't…that I shouldn't have…."

"It is fine," Fenris said. He regarded her carefully. Though she was still visibly shaken, tremors no long racked her small frame. "Are you all right?" he asked her.

"I am, I think. I'm sorry. You must think I'm being silly. The child needs to go to the circle, he needs the training that they can provide—but that was so cruel. Dragging him away from his mother screaming like that. Why couldn't they have been kinder?"

Fenris' spine stiffened. This was something he doubted the two of them would ever see eye to eye upon. "The templars did not have an easy task. Any kindness shown by them to the child and his family may have been taken advantage of, with his family electing to run rather than accept the fact that their child is a danger to them," he reminded her, disapproval coloring his voice.

Hawke looked at him sharply. "Perhaps. But even if one is not moved out of simple humanity to think that there must have been a better, a kinder way to take that child from his family, I would think that one should do so out of a sense of self-preservation. A mage is most likely to become an abomination when facing great emotional distress. Demons were calling to that child, Fenris, trying to tempt him to let one of them in so he could fight back and remain with his family. It was a close thing. The templars did no one any favors by not tempering their duty with compassion."

There had to be some error in Hawke's logic, but for the life of him, Fenris couldn't figure out what it was. "You may have a point," he finally conceded. She smiled sadly at him, and he knew that she was not fooled by his words into believing that she had convinced him. Still she didn't press the topic but rather insisted that they hurry to the market as they had lost enough time due to the templars.

The market was bustling with activity by the time they arrived. Fenris and Hawke followed their noses to the food stalls. Hawke was in her element here as she negotiated the best prices for them. Fenris for the most part stayed back only offering his opinion when she asked about the quality of a particular piece of produce or how long a dried and salted strip of meat would last.

A bag of lovely, ripe apples was the last item on their list. After it had been purchased, Fenris gave their coin pouch an experimental shake. It was noticeably emptier which was to be expected but there was still a fair amount of coin within. "Let's go by the weapon merchant," he told her. He cast a critical eye over her robes, which had developed a few new holes. "After dropping by the tailor, that is."

A new set of robes for Hawke turned out to be prohibitively expensive, and so they had to settle for a repair kit of needle and thread instead. They had run across slaver mages during their journey, but Hawke had simply refused to take their gear, stating that she couldn't abide by the stench. While it was an impractical decision, it only raised Fenris' estimation of her because he never used slaver gear himself.

They had the same luck at the weaponsmith. Though there were a couple swords that caught his eye, they cost too much as well. Fenris simply sighed and settled for having his current sword sharpened as it was beginning to get dull. With that transaction complete, he turned towards the daggers. He wanted to get one for Hawke as he had noticed that she didn't have one. It was for her own good. While she normally stayed behind him during their fights, casting her spells from afar, he worried about what she would do if their enemies ever flanked them. Thus he wanted her to have a dagger to fall back upon in case she lacked the room she needed to effectively cast spells.

He picked out a small dagger and pointed it out to her. "It's nice enough, I guess," she said, "but not for me."

"Then you choose one."

"Um…I would prefer not to. Daggers can be a bit too convenient, you know? Best to avoid temptation and all that."

Fenris gave her a look. He was not going to accept no for an answer. "If you wish to grow stronger, then you have to master temptation, not avoid it," he said sternly. "If there's another one you prefer, then let me know now. Otherwise we'll get this one."

Hawke pulled a face but even she knew a losing battle when she saw one. As Fenris handed over the money for the dagger, a familiar glint caught his eye from their side. He casually turned to examine a particularly shiny shield, using it as a mirror to reflect their surroundings. What he saw almost made him curse out loud.

The templar hunter from earlier was at the booth to their immediate right. Fenris surreptitiously looked around and saw that there were templars standing guard behind them and in front of them as well. He held back a sneer. The trap was obvious. He knew when someone was trying to herd him.

He mentally mapped the city, trying to figure out which escape route would be the best. There were no good options. They couldn't simply pick a place to fight and stand their ground. Not only were they severely outnumbered, Fenris did not know if he could rely on Hawke to pull her weight in a fight against templars given the reaction he had seen from her earlier. Besides there were too many unknowns in this unfamiliar place, and so he decided that they have to take advantage of the element of surprise. The templar leader surely would not expect them to come towards him.

He reached down and grasped Hawke's hand. A soft gasp escaped her lips as she raised her eyes to meet his. "Trust me," he said with the barest hint of a smile on his lips. And then they were off.

Fenris led with his shoulder, colliding with the hunter and sending him stumbling back. The extra seconds it took for the man to raise the hue and cry was exactly what they needed to get lost in the crowd. On one hand it helped that neither Fenris nor Hawke were especially tall as it made it harder for them to find, but on the other hand, their lack of height also made it more difficult for them to keep track of exactly where their enemies were. Fenris retraced their steps to lead them to a place where he doubted the templars with their pristine suits of armor would follow—the sewers. With her hand still tightly clutched in his, they ducked into the underground tunnels that laid beneath Seleny

"There are times when I regret having a sense of smell. This is one of them," Hawke whined from behind him as they switched from one rank tunnel to the next.

Fenris chuckled at her imagery. "You would regret that around dinner time," he told her.

"Right now eating is the last thing on my mind," she replied. "I don't suppose we lost them."

He stopped in his tracks and listened. It was faint, but he could make out the telltale jangle of armor behind them. "No," he said.

"What?" Hawke cried. "How can they still be behind us? I don't have a phylactery so they can't be using that to track us."

"I doubt their order has much use for templars who aren't persistent," Fenris said mildly, hoping to calm his mageling down. It seemed to do the trick.

"Or maybe they're the ones who lack a sense of smell," Hawke countered.

"That could be it," Fenris said. He tried to figure out what had gone wrong with their escape. If the templars had pursued them in enough numbers, then it would be a simple thing for them to split up at each intersection. He cursed himself for not thinking of that beforehand. The templar hunter hadn't gone after them immediately after catching sight of Hawke because he went to get reinforcements first.

"We'll make our stand here," Fenris said. He dropped Hawke's hand and took a look at the tunnel they were in. It wasn't all bad. The tight quarters would ensure that the templars couldn't flank them. Furthermore he would be able to keep Hawke behind him, protecting her as she cast.

"But they're templars," Hawke protested.

"They are still men like any other. They will bleed if my sword cuts them, and they will burn if your fire hits them."

"But they're templars!" she repeated, her voice shrill. "My father told me about them. Their touch…it drains mages of mana, rendering them unable to cast the simplest of spells."

"I won't let them get that close," Fenris replied. "They will not touch you, this I promise. I'll take point while you cast from safety behind."

They had no more time to argue because three templars came into view. At the head of the small group was the templar hunter who had recognized Hawke as a mage. A cruel grin twisted his mouth when he saw them. "Ah there you are," he said. "Figured out you can't run, did you? Give the apostate up, elf, and I promise you no harm shall come to you."

"No," Fenris said, and he knew himself for a hypocrite. The templars no doubt thought him just as foolish as the parents of the mage child from before. Still Hawke was different. Her control was nothing short of phenomenal while the mage child had none. Besides Hawke didn't need templars to keep her on the straight and narrow. She had _him_, and he would see her dead before he allowed her to fall down that abyss, just how he promised all those weeks ago.

"I don't think you understand the situation you're in, elf. Continue to shelter the apostate and we will have no choice but to relieve you of your life," the hunter said. "But if you hand her over…the order is generous towards those who bring apostates to our attention. The reward is enough that you'll be able to afford a whore to replace the apostate's services."

"Which must be something else for the elf to be hanging on to her so fiercely," said one of the other templars. "Can't wait to get a taste of that myself."

Fenris saw red. With a mighty cry, he charged the three templars. He would not allow any one of them to lay a finger on Hawke. The templar hunter fell back, allowing the other two templars to take the brunt of Fenris' attack. The templars lifted their shields to meet Fenris' strike, and then in practiced cadence, swung their swords together to drive the elf back.

However, Fenris had been a bodyguard to a paranoid magister who had ensured that the favorite tricks of templars from other lands were well-known to the elf. Fenris had seen this sequence before, and he knew how to counter it. He sidestepped their swipes, rather than parrying, and focused his strikes so that he drove the templars together, until their shoulders were touching one another.

While the templars' shields protected their heads and their bodies, their legs were left exposed. Fenris dropped to the ground and thrust his sword forward in an arc to cut the templars' legs out from under them. Rolling back on to his feet, two quick strikes were all that he needed put an end to their threat.

But not to the hunter, whom Fenris had all but forgotten in his fury. The hunter lunged forward, and Fenris barely had time to block. He took a jarring hit and then another, unable to form a counter as the hunter kept up his attack. A fierce, overhand strike landed squarely on the elf's shoulder. He screamed in pain as the blade went cleanly through his armor and into his flesh. The hunter grinned in triumph and raised his sword for another jab.

Then all hell broke loose around him. Swirling flickers of flame dusted the air then burst into conflagrations. The hunter reeled backwards, shrieking as the flames enveloped him. Fenris could feel the heat of the fire against his skin, which was so intense it could melt steel, but not a single finger of fire touched him.

Instead he felt the cool breeze of magic that he had come to associate with Hawke's healing upon his shoulder, and he could hear her tentative steps sound from behind him as she approached him. He spared a glance back at the mageling. Her chin was up, and all traces of fear had been erased from her face.

She had never been more beautiful than in that moment.

"That is enough," she said. She clenched her fists at her side. "I will not let the likes of you harm the ones I love." She raised her right hand and called forth fire to gather there once more, intent on roasting the templar where he stood. Fenris, however, had a different idea. While the hunter remained focused on the mage before him, he withdrew a small throwing knife from his belt. With a twist of his wrist, Fenris sent the blade through the man's eye, a clean kill.

Extinguishing the flames she had called, Hawke turned towards him. She tilted her head to one side. "Why did you—"

"I had a point to prove," Fenris answered before she could finish. "That while magic is undoubtedly useful, sometimes a blade is faster," he told her. He gestured towards her belt, reminding her of the dagger he had bought for her over her protestations. A fierce grin lit up his face, and its twin appeared on Hawke's.

"Point taken," said Hawke. "Though you'll have to show me that trick of yours. If I had thrown my dagger, I would be more likely to hit you than anything. I've never used one before."

Fenris winced. It was just as well that Hawke had stuck to magic then. "We'll have to remedy that," he said.

"Sometime after we get out of here, I hope. My nose is threatening to fall off," she said.

"As is mine," he agreed. He gave his shoulder an experimental roll, wincing as it cracked. Hawke stepped forward but he waved her off, stating that her healing from earlier sufficed and that they needed to get out of here. She took one look at the dead templars and shuddered before gesturing for him to lead on.

They ran into two more groups of templars as they wound their way through the sewers. Both groups met the same fate as the first, with Hawke gaining more and more confidence from their confrontations. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, they could make out a hint of a fresh breeze. "The exit must be up ahead," said Fenris. He quickened his step, eager to leave the stench of the sewers far behind them.

There was another surprise waiting for them at the exit, however. "Blast," he swore as he caught sight of large group of Tevinter slavers.

"Lovely," Hawke said as she peered over his shoulder. "A perfect ending to a perfect day. What do you think they're doing here?"

"The same thing slavers always do in lands outside of Tevinter—capture poor souls to be hauled back in exchange for gold."

"Of course. Silly me for asking." Hawke's voice dripped with sarcasm. "I meant they're not here for us, right?"

"Does it matter?" Fenris quietly took out his sword and stalked forward on silent feet.

Hawke trailed after him, taking her cue from him and not making too much noise. "No, not really. We're going to kill them anyway right?"

Fenris rolled his eyes. That question didn't really deserve an answer. He was about to hush the mageling so they could launch a surprise attack when a voice sounded from amidst the slavers.

"I must say, all this attention is quite flattering," said a confident voice. Fenris peered through the ring of slavers and saw that they had cornered another elf.

"I hate to admit it, but despite the tales you might have heard about the skills of the great Zevran Arainai, I'm afraid taking you all on at once is a bit more than I can handle," the elf continued. "Can I convince you that one at a time is best? No? Then two, I can handle two very easily. Still no? Now three…three would be pressing it as I've not been with three that often but I think I can make it work though there might be some awkwardness at the start as we figure out how to best meld our arms and legs together."

"Is that idiot trying to fight them or seduce them?" Hawke asked.

"Both I imagine," Fenris replied. He rather agreed with her assessment of the other elf's intelligence. "And he's failing miserably at both," he added as the slavers looked to be unimpressed by the fool's bluster.

"I guess that means we better help him out," Hawke said.

Fenris shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose."

"Really? And here I thought no day was complete unless you got to slaughter a group of slavers."

"You have a point," Fenris said. He eyed the slavers to determine where would be the best place to attack with an eye towards felling as many of them at once. His target decided, he turned to Hawke and said, "Let's go."


	5. Chapter 5

**Promises: Chapter Five**

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc are still not mine. If they were, there would have been tons more Fenris dialogue in Legacy.

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><p>The battle with the slavers was short and brutal. They never saw the combined attack of Fenris and Hawke coming. Fenris took out five with his first strike, and Hawke's magic finished several more off. Even the elf who the slavers had cornered turned out to be of some use as he drew out a pair of daggers that he used with deadly efficiency. All in all, it only took them a matter of minutes to rid the world of a few more slavers.<p>

The other elf approached them when the battle was over, sheathing his blades as he walked and running a hand through his blond hair. "It seems that I owe you a debt of gratitude," he said. "I do not know what would have happened to me if you hadn't stepped in."

"You would be dead," Fenris said bluntly. He turned his attention to cleaning his gear and left the task of convincing the other elf to leave them alone to Hawke.

"Charming as always, Fenris," Hawke muttered to him softly. She turned a winsome smile on the other elf. "No thanks are needed," she told him. "Killing slavers is Fenris' favorite hobby. Actually scratch that…I think it's his only hobby."

"That counts as a hobby?" The blond elf shook his head and clucked his tongue. "It doesn't seem like much of one to me." He directed his next words towards Fenris with a lascivious grin. "If you like I can show you a more…fulfilling pastime."

"From you? No," Fenris said shortly.

The other elf didn't know when to give up. "Oh? Well then perhaps you would like to give and I could receive?"

Fenris simply glared at the blond elf, not deigning to answer. Wiping his blade clean of blood, he slung it back on to his back and then stepped behind Hawke, placing the mageling between him and the other elf as he wanted no more lewd offers from the fool. Unfortunately that action only made the blond elf turn his attentions on to Hawke, which wasn't an improvement.

"So I know the handsome elf cowering behind you is called Fenris, but I am afraid that I have not caught your name, my lady." He offered Hawke a florid bow, a charming smile on his face as he awaited her reply. Fenris was struck with the sudden urge to punch that smile off of the other elf's face.

"Isn't it rude to ask for someone else's name when you haven't told them yours?" Hawke asked aloud, acting as though she hadn't heard the assassin's name earlier.

The elf gasped in mock-horror and took a step back. "Ah! Forgive me such a transgression, my lady. Standing before you is none other than Zevran Arainai, assassin and lover extraordinaire."

"Funny that. You seemed to be failing miserably when it came to either assassinating or seducing those slavers," Fenris couldn't help but say.

"Fenris," Hawke said, her voice a mild rebuke. She sighed softly and then spoke to the assassin. "I'm glad we were able to help you, Zevran. My name is Hawke—"

"Hawke? What a lovely name for such a lovely lady." Zevran stepped forward and captured Hawke's right hand in his, lifting it up to press a kiss against it. Hawke blushed furiously, and it was all Fenris could do not to growl his disapproval. He was now regretting saving the handsome blond elf; clearly they should have let the slavers kill the assassin before killing the slavers.

"So um….I hope you'll forgive me my curiosity," Hawke stammered, her cheeks still bright red, "but I was wondering why those slavers were after you."

"My dear girl, you do not have to beg forgiveness for anything from me," Zevran said. He waggled his eyebrows at Hawke. "And as for why the slavers were after me—they were not. I was after them."

"I see," said Hawke slowly. "You were after them. Good job catching them, I guess. But didn't you think about how you were going to deal with them after you caught up to them?"

"Obviously not," Fenris noted. The other two continued to ignore his somewhat grumpy contributions to the conversation.

"I thought that my good looks and charm would sway them into giving me the information I needed from them."

"How did that work out for you?" It warmed Fenris' heart to hear that sarcastic quip out of Hawke's mouth.

"It didn't." The assassin heaved a mighty sigh. "In retrospect, I should have put more thought into taking this job to begin with."

"Job? You mentioned you're an assassin. Who do you work for?" Hawke asked.

Fenris spoke up before the assassin could answer. "He's an Antivan and an assassin. Which means he's a Crow." Then another possibility occurred to him. "Either that or he has a death wish to set up shop in the Crows' territory."

The assassin snorted in amusement. "Indeed, my friend, one would have to be very foolish to compete with the Crows in their home territory. Despite what you might think of me, I am not such a fool. Rather I am a Crow, just like you said, and my current target was this particular ring of slavers."

"That's strange. I never heard of the Antivan Crows having a problem with Tevinter slavers before despite the fact that the slavers have always operated in Antiva," Fenris said dryly.

"Indeed." Zevran coughed once, then twice. "You are right again, my friend. You are right so often—it makes me think of how right we could be together."

"I'm not your friend," Fenris said through gritted teeth, ignoring the other elf's continued blandishments.

Zevran shook his head sadly before going on to respond to Fenris' earlier statement. "Like most powers in Thedas, traditionally the Crows have turned a blind eye towards the activities of slavers in Antiva. However when a ring decides to go after and then capture a group of the Crows' prized recruits…that's a whole different matter entirely."

"That's the information you hoped to get out of them, isn't it?" Hawke pressed. "Where they're hiding the recruits they've captured."

"Well mostly yes. This assignment requires two things of me—rescuing the Crows' recruits and killing the ring's leader in order to make an example of him. Alas the leader of this particular slaver ring is a man by the name of Brax, who is rather infamous even in Antiva for his cruelty."

Fenris started when the assassin named his target. He had heard of that slaver before. Brax was one of Danarius' main providers of new slaves, and in particular, most of the slaves from Antiva had been captured by him. Fenris wondered if his former master had already sent orders for the slaver to hunt down and kill him.

"Needless to say, I wasn't able to find anyone willing to volunteer information about him for fear of reprisals," Zevran continued, "and so I had to turn to convincing his men to talk."

"I hate to be the one to point this out, but seeing how well that went for you, you might want to reconsider your strategy," said Hawke. "Maybe you should just focus on rescuing your recruits?" she suggested.

"Ah but there's the rub. I can't. Once you take an assignment, you have to complete it," the assassin replied. "If you don't…well the Crows didn't get their reputation for infallibility by allowing failure."

Fenris blinked. That was information he hadn't been privy to. "So you mean to say that the Crows will kill you if you don't complete both tasks?" he asked.

"Exactly, my friend. You are right again. Are you sure you don't—"

"You know it isn't any wonder that you haven't gotten very far seeing how hard you find it to stay on task." Hawke twitched her nose in annoyance. Evidently the assassin's constant flirtations were wearing down on her too. Somehow it made Fenris feel a little better to know that he wasn't the only one who was growing impatient with the fool before them.

"My darling girl, you have no idea how hard I am—"

"Trying to complete your assignment?" Hawke finished the assassin's sentence before he could make another lecherous remark. "Not very if this conversation is anything to go by. It makes me wonder why the Crows picked you to rescue their precious recruits. Didn't they have anyone better?"

"Most likely their better assassins didn't feel like risking their own skin to go after Brax," Fenris said before the assassin, who had clutched his hands to his chest as though wounded, could get a word in edgewise. "I have heard of this Brax. His vicious tendencies are known far and wide across Thedas."

"Yes, which makes it blasted hard to find anyone willing to help no matter how much coin I offer them." A gleam appeared in the assassin's eye. "Although…I believe the young lady mentioned that your hobby is killing slavers, yes?"

Fenris mentally cursed Hawke's smart tongue for what must have been the hundredth time since he met her. "No," he said. He was not foolish enough to throw away his life helping the idiot before him with his nigh-impossible task.

Unfortunately the blond elf was nothing if not crafty and turned his attention to Hawke. "Did you misspeak perhaps?" he asked. "Here I thought that I had found some sympathetic souls, someone who would feel for my poor brothers-in-arms who even now have probably given up all hope of being rescued."

Hawke's eyes brimmed with tears, and Fenris could see that Zevran's words had struck their mark. He supposed he couldn't blame Hawke for falling for that story, given how she herself had been in a similar situation not all that long ago. Still Fenris' instincts were screaming at him that there was something very important that the assassin was not telling them. There was more to his story than he let on.

Fenris decided to confront the assassin. "You're not telling us everything, are you?" he bit out.

Zevran spread out his hands, palms up, before him. "Nothing I have said to you is untrue," he protested.

Fenris narrowed his eyes. The other elf looked as though butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, which only made Fenris more suspicious. "I don't believe you," he announced. "And I definitely don't trust you. Our answer is no."

"Fenris!" came Hawke's sharp rebuke. "Your instincts have been wrong before," she said, prompting him to remember the first farmer they had helped. "He needs our help to put an end to this slaving ring. How can you—"

He clenched his fists at his side, fighting back the urge to snap at the impressionable mageling. Couldn't she see that there was a world of difference from the simple farmer who wanted a few spiders slain versus the conniving assassin who now stood before them? Fenris knew without a doubt that the blond elf had carefully tailored his story to ensure that any shady details were trimmed away.

However Fenris knew that it would be difficult to convince Hawke of that fact. She had fallen for the assassin's story hook, line, and sinker because it was so like her own. His best bet was to emphasize to her how dangerous this particular band of slavers were in order to get her to see things his way. "Easily, Hawke. I refuse to risk our lives going up against one of the most brutal slavers in all of Thedas. This Brax is feared even in Tevinter."

"Tevinter, you say?" Zevran looked Fenris up and down. He snapped his fingers. "You are from Tevinter! Of course! Why did I not see it before? You are the elf that Brax is after."

"What?" exclaimed Fenris and Hawke in unison.

Zevran dug around in his pack, extracting some papers from it. "See here. I got this from the first batch of slavers I ran across. It seems that Brax has received orders from a magister from Tevinter to capture you dead or alive." He thrust the papers at Fenris.

"Bah! Such documents are easily forged." Fenris pushed the papers aside, not caring to reveal that he could not read them, but Hawke caught them before they could hit the ground.

"Um…these documents look convincing to me," Hawke said. "They describe you in great detail. Although not how I would describe you because they leave out the fact that you're tall, dark, and brooding but it's a pretty good match." She smiled winsomely up at him.

Fenris glowered at the mageling. She was not helping, not with the way she was being taken in so easily by the assassin. He switched his glare over to the other elf, who was projecting an aura of innocence that all but screamed that he shouldn't be trusted.

Fenris sighed. Hawke was the most stubborn person he had ever come across; once she had made up her mind about something, she could not be swayed from her path. He would not let her forge ahead alone, no matter how much of a mistake it was. She needed him to protect her, and protect her he would.

Besides even if the documents were forged, Brax was likely to come after him sooner or later. At least this way they could go after the slaver and his associates while getting paid for their trouble.

"We'll do it for half your take," he said sternly.

"Excuse me?" The assassin blinked.

"You heard me." This was not a point Fenris was going to concede. If he was going to accept the other elf's story at face value, he damn well was going to get paid for it.

Thankfully Hawke stood firm with him there. "You did mention that you were getting paid for Brax's death along with the recruits' return," she said in that sweet voice of hers. "And that if you didn't deliver on both, the Crows would kill you themselves. The way I see it, paying us half your fee is a bargain really."

Zevran looked from Hawke to Fenris and then back to Hawke again but to no avail. "Fine," he said with a disgruntled moue on his face. "It is not like I have people lining up to help. Quite the opposite in fact. Half my fee I will pay you."

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> Thanks to everyone who was kind enough to leave a review. I always love reading what people think of my stories, good or bad.


	6. Chapter 6

**Promises: Chapter Six**

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

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><p>Considering how much both Hawke and Zevran liked to monopolize a conversation, it was a surprise to Fenris that the two of them got along so well. He would have expected the two of them to see each other as competition but instead they chattered on non-stop like a pair of birds. Which in a way they were.<p>

Needless to say, there was nary a moment of silence to be had with those two about. Fenris originally dealt with the pair by trying to tune them out, with some success, but ended that tactic after one particularly alarming conversation.

Fenris was scanning the horizon, keeping an eye out for enemies and ignoring his companions' exchanges. Suddenly Hawke stumbled as she had far too often today as she was too busy talking to watch where she was going. His reverie broken, he reached out a hand to steady her before quickly withdrawing it. That was when he heard her say, "Excuse me for saying this but if the merchant's wife was as much as an eyesore as you make her out to be, I find it hard to believe that you were able to …well you know." Hawke made a vague gesture with her hand, blushing furiously.

"Ah, you find it hard to believe that I was able to adequately entertain her, no? That is where you are wrong, little one," Zevran replied. "Have you not heard of the saying that in the dark all cats are grey? There is something to be said about making love in the dark and having to rely on touch and taste and—"

"It's getting dark soon. We had best start looking for a place to make camp," Fenris put in, not allowing the assassin to complete that thought. He was mildly alarmed to discover that the other elf was trying to corrupt his mageling when he wasn't paying attention. As much as it pained him, he would have to start keeping track of the topics Hawke and Zevran talked about, not wanting her to be taken in by the untrustworthy assassin any more than she already was.

Fenris assigned himself the task of preparing their dinner mainly because he was the only safe choice. If Hawke cooked, there would be nothing edible to eat while he didn't trust what Zevran might choose to use as spices. "Why don't you try mending your spare robes?" he suggested to Hawke after the mageling started their nightly fire. "You can use the fire to see what you're doing," he added. Having her sit near him meant that it would be easier to keep an eye on her.

"Have I ever told you how much I hate sewing?" she grumbled.

"I believe you've mentioned it on occasion. But you've been unable to wear those robes because they're so worn that they're practically indecent." Out of the corner of his eye, Fenris saw the other elf light up with interest. He winced. He really shouldn't have put it that way.

"True," said Hawke. "But I have these and they're not that bad."

"Yet. Besides you're beginning to reek. Standing upwind of you only does so much good," he added with a small smile.

There wasn't much that she could say to that. But Hawke being Hawke, she still tried to get her way. "I'd rather cook," she told him.

"I'll cook," replied Fenris. He shuddered at the thought of trying to consume something she had made.

"I…uh…could help you cook?"

"No." His tone brooked no dissent. The mageling crinkled her nose but ultimately decided that further protest was useless. Muttering complaints under her breath, she retrieved her spare robes along with the mending kit from their packs before settling down a few feet away from him.

The assassin, meanwhile, had watched their exchange with interest. He sidled forward and took a seat next to Hawke. "So," he said, "I know that your friend over there is from Tevinter. However, I do not know where you are from, dear lady."

Hawke looked up from her mending and focused on the other elf. "Ferelden," she answered.

"You are a long way from home, my friend," the assassin noted.

"Isn't that the truth?" Hawke sounded so melancholy that it made Fenris think that maybe she missed her home more than she was willing to admit.

"If you don't mind me asking, how did you wind up here? With him?" Zevran jerked his head towards Fenris.

"Fenris saved me," Hawke replied. She smiled wistfully. "I had been captured by slavers back in Ferelden, you see. I had really just given up all hope of being rescued when Fenris swooped in, killed all the slavers, and set me free. We've been together ever since."

"Ah," said the assassin. Fenris could see the wheels turning in the other elf's head. He didn't know who he wanted to curse the most—the assassin for being so manipulative and secretive, Hawke for being so naïve and trusting, or himself for not watching out for the mageling more. Fenris didn't even want to think about what other nuggets of information Hawke must have let slip out during the day when he wasn't paying attention.

"I have another question if you do not mind," the assassin was saying. Fenris perked up his ears, ready to intervene if needed. "I have only been to Ferelden a few times so my knowledge of their customs is limited. Do Fereldans usually mend things by putting more holes in them first?" He gestured towards the robes Hawke had been working on, which looked worse than when she first started to sew.

"Andraste's ass," Hawke swore. "No, it's not. I'm just pants at sewing…well I'm bad at anything to do with a needle to be honest."

"Really? I couldn't tell," said Zevran.

Hawke gave him a look she could have stolen from Fenris. "Don't. Just don't," she said firmly. "This is why Mother always had Bethany or even Carver do the mending. You don't want to know what happened the last time I tried to darn a pair of socks."

"That bad?"

"No. Worse." Hawke frowned. "My task was usually cooking. Trust me, I'm a much better cook than I am a seamstress."

That gave Fenris pause. He began to wonder if it was really a great idea to have Hawke work on her robes. If she was really that bad, then her spare robes were likely to be reduced into a set of rags by the time she was finished.

"I am sure you are," Zevran said grandly, humoring the mageling. "Some people are just picky eaters, no? So tell me. What is your specialty?"

"Oh! My family likes my turnip soup the best."

"Turnip…soup? It has turnips and…?"

"And turnips and…well it's mostly turnips and whatever else is lying around," Hawke told the blond elf. "My cabbage soup and potato soup isn't bad either, but my mother insists that I leave rutabagas alone. Which is just as well as I haven't the slightest clue about what to do with them."

"I see." Zevran was silent for a moment and then ventured, "So you usually cooked for your family then?"

"No, not really. Only when Mother was sick."

"Was your mother often sick?"

"Actually no. She's almost never sick. She's the healthiest person I know."

Fenris could understand why.

"Bah!" the assassin suddenly exclaimed. "I cannot stand this anymore. I have lost count of the number of times I've seen you stab yourself with the needle. Here, let me help you with that." He scooted closer to Hawke.

"No, I'm good," Hawke insisted. She pulled the robes she had been working up on her lap. "I'll never get better if I don't practice. If you're looking for something to do, however, you could collect more wood for the fire. I think we'll need it tonight."

Zevran leered at her. "Ha! I do not think that we are in any danger of running out of wood any time soon, my friend."

"I would rather play it safe. Now off with you." Hawke made a shooing motion with her hands. "You're not getting into my robes that easy," she informed him. The assassin chuckled as he stood up and left. Once he was out of sight, Hawke's attention turned to Fenris.

"I know what you're doing," she said. "You don't have to protect me. I can take care of myself."

Fenris blinked. He hadn't seen this coming. "Of course you can," he replied.

Hawke rolled her eyes. "And I also know when someone is patronizing me. You worry too much, Fenris. I've seen his type before. He's only after one thing. I feel sorry for Zevran actually. He seems very lonely, like he's always been alone, and flirting is his way to make up for that."

Fenris gave her a noncommittal grunt. There was no point in trying to convince her that the assassin was likely to use her feelings of pity for him against her. Fenris knew a master manipulator when he saw one, from his experiences as a slave in Tevinter. Hawke might think that Zevran was a mostly harmless flirt, but Fenris knew better.

"Besides," Hawke went on, "I rather thought you would be grateful about my taking his attention off of you. I noticed how you didn't appreciate all his lines…well honestly I think a blind man would see that. I don't think you could have been any more obvious about wanting to be far away from Zev after you started hiding behind me."

"I never hid behind you," Fenris growled at her.

She merely raised an eyebrow at him and then sighed. "Fine, Fenris. Whatever helps you sleep at night." There was a twinkle in her eye, which did not bode well for him.

Fenris finished cooking their nightly meal around the same time the assassin returned. "There." Zevran dumped the wood he had collected near the fire with a flourish. "I trust you think this is enough to last us through the evening," he said turning towards Hawke.

"It should be," she replied. "Thanks for getting that for us."

"It was my pleasure, my dear." A lecherous smirk appeared on his face. "Tell me, do you get very cold at night?"

"Me? Get cold? Never. I'm from Ferelden. It gets much colder there," Hawke asserted. "Fenris, on the other hand, is from Tevinter, and I gather that it is a warmer country. The fire's more for him than for me really. It's the best way I know of to keep warm…although if you can think of any other ways, I'm sure he'll appreciate you sharing that with him."

Hawke directed a wicked grin at Fenris with those last words. Fenris gulped nervously. He got her message loud and clear.

* * *

><p>"So do you have any particular destination in mind?" Hawke asked Zevran as they packed up the next morning after a cold breakfast.<p>

"I have a network of contacts throughout Antiva. I've already checked with most of them and came up empty-handed, but there are a couple more out there that I would like to see," replied the assassin.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Hawke chirped cheerfully. "Where to then?"

"There's a small town a couple days from here. One of my contacts is there," Zevran stated. "If he doesn't have anything for us…well an old friend of mine has made port in Antiva City. She's very good at keeping her ear to the ground so perhaps she has heard something."

"Well hopefully your first contact knows something. I'd rather not spend too much time in large cities," said Hawke. A shadow crossed her face. "That's a bit dangerous for one such as me."

"You are referring to templars, are you not?" the assassin said. "Yes, one is more likely to run into them in a large city, but do not worry. I do have some skills in avoiding people, and I can hide you if the need occurs. That being said, little one, I think you are entirely too young to live in such fear. It is not good for you."

That was the first smart thing that Fenris had heard the other elf say.

As they set out that day, Fenris took his usual place out in front. Hawke had made it very clear to him last night that she could take care of herself. Or at least she thought she could. He remained resolved to pay greater attention to her conversations with Zevran just in case. However the pair spoke on subjects that had no consequence, such as whether the Fereldan witch of the wilds was somehow connected to the Antivan witch of the wilds. Fenris wondered if his companions knew that he was listening in and so were selecting topics with more care. He wouldn't put that past the assassin, and Hawke had shown she knew how to be sneaky as well.

When they stopped for dinner that evening, Hawke got out her mending without any prompting from Fenris leaving him to deal with dinner. However before she could thread her needle, Zevran stepped in. "Please no more of this," he said, snatching her robes away. "I am sure you suspected this, but you are the worst seamstress I have ever met."

"You really do know how to charm a girl, don't you?" Hawke mumbled through gritted teeth.

"And here I thought you would not appreciate false compliments," the elf returned. "I shall see what I can do with these robes of yours. Perhaps they are not a lost cause. Go help your friend with our dinner." He waved Hawke off.

Hawke pouted a bit but otherwise didn't put up much of a fight. She wandered over to where Fenris was going through the packs. Having overheard Zevran's order for Hawke to help him with dinner, Fenris came to a quick decision—they would have cold rations tonight. If nothing was cooked, then there was no way Hawke could ruin the food. Or so he hoped.

"Find the apples," he told her when she came to a stop beside him. "I'll cut some bread, and we'll have that tonight along with some jerky."

"Good idea," Hawke said. "We can pick up more supplies tomorrow." Fenris was pleasantly surprised to hear that the mageling wasn't going to argue with him for once. Perhaps her debates with the assassin serve some purpose after all.

"Did you know," Zevran said conversationally from his seat, "that you managed to sew the sleeves together?"

Fenris felt rather than saw Hawke roll her eyes. "You don't say." There was an edge to her voice.

"You also managed to sew the collar shut. Your stitches are thankfully easy to undo. In fact, I think they'll come apart on their own," the assassin continued, chuckling all the while. Fenris spared a glance for his mageling and saw that telltale twitch of her fingers. He hid a grin. Evidently the other elf liked flirting with danger. For his part, if Hawke lobbed a fireball at the assassin, Fenris would hold his tongue and not lecture her about needing to have better control because quite frankly Zevran was asking for it.

"The patches you sewed on the skirt of the robes leave something to be desired too, seeing how on most of them your stitches have sewed the two sides together. And your attempt to fix the hem—a disaster, a complete and total disaster. The kindest thing I can say about it is—"

Whatever Zevran was going to say was lost for at that moment Hawke located the apples and promptly tossed a pair at the blond elf's head. Though her aim was true, the assassin was quicker. Moving with fluid grace, he easily caught both apples and then took a bite out of one.

"Thank you," he told her, grinning like a fool. "I was getting hungry."

"Glad to be of service. Perhaps if you're eating then you won't have time to be harping on and on about my mending job. I know that it's bad. I don't need you to rub it in." Hawke huffed angrily and glared at the still smiling elf.

"My apologies, little one. I wasn't trying to hurt your feelings. I merely was trying to lead everyone to the same conclusion that I reached—that these robes are simply unsalvageable. We will simply have to buy you another set," Zevran told her.

"But that's too—"

Zevran waved her concerns aside. "Do not worry about the cost. I will cover it as your employer. I do have a bit of advice for you, little one."

"What is it?" Hawke looked at him suspiciously.

"Marry well. Your domestic skills are sadly lacking as you cannot sew, and you cannot cook. You need to find a man who can take care of you, who can properly provide for all your needs."

Fenris choked at those words. Meanwhile Hawke screeched in protest, "I can too cook!"

"Perhaps in Ferelden they think you can cook because maybe their standards are lower. As in if you don't burn the house down, then you can cook. It's rather different in the rest of the world, however."

"How can you say that? You haven't even tasted anything I've cooked yet!"

"Ha! I do not have to risk my stomach like that. I saw the fear on our grumpy friend's face when I suggested you help him with dinner tonight. Why do you think that you're not actually cooking anything?"

Hawke shot an angry look at Fenris that demanded a suitable response from him. "It is as you said," Fenris told her. "I thought it best we eat the fruit and bread tonight so we'll have room in our packs to replace them with fresh items tomorrow."

Hawke continued to glare at him, not convinced by his words. Fenris mentally cursed the other elf for putting him in this position. Well if he was going to suffer, he wasn't going to suffer alone. "If you like," he said, thinking he must be crazy for even making such a suggestion, "the next night we're out on the road, you can cook."

Hawke beamed at him, and he couldn't help but think that sight was well worth any later agony. The mumbled curses stringing out of the assassin's mouth only furthered lifted his spirits. Fenris found himself returning Hawke's smile with one of his own.

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><p><strong>Author's note: <strong>My thanks to everyone who left a review. :D **  
><strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**Promises: Chapter Seven**

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

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><p>When the party reached town the next day, Zevran was true to his word and headed straight to the tailors, unheeding of Hawke's protests.<p>

"The two of you met up with templars the other day, no?" the assassin pointed out as he led them through the narrows streets unerringly. "And the little one was wearing the same robes? Because of this, a change of robes for Hawke must be the first thing we do. We don't want anyone recognizing the pair of you, am I right?"

"Fine," Fenris put in before Hawke could protest further. The other elf had a point as much as he hated to admit it.

Hawke peered over at Fenris and pouted. From the cross look on her face, it was apparent that the mageling knew she was fighting a losing battle. "All right. Robes first then," she said, her tone making it clear that she was not happy.

"As you wish," the assassin replied gracefully. He made a hard right, causing Hawke to almost fall down and leaving Fenris hard pressed not to run over the mageling. Once they had all safely navigated the corner, Zevran turned around to face the pair.

"And here we are at the tailor," he announced, waving a hand towards the building on his left. He ushered Hawke in through the doors before following her. Fenris was left to take up the rear. He did so and only entered the shop after taking a surreptitious glance around to ensure that there were no templars watching the establishment. Once inside, Fenris saw that Zevran had taken complete charge of this little shopping expedition.

"No," Zevran said firmly, taking a set of robes away from Hawke. "Not brown as it is hardly a flattering color for you, little one."

"It might not be flattering, but it does tend to blend in well," Hawke stated.

The assassin laughed at those words. "Oh little one, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but a lady as lovely as you will never be able to easily blend into the background. You might as well accept the fact and learn not only to live with it, but to exploit it," he told her.

"Flattery will get you no where," was Hawke's reply.

"Trust me. I have noticed that with you and your grumpy friend. The two of you are well matched in that regard." Zevran went through the shop like a whirlwind, picking up different robes that caught his eye and tossing each one into Hawke's arms. "There," he said once he had made a complete circuit of the store. "Into the changing room with you to see how those look."

Hawke stepped into a changing room and drew the curtain back across the partition. Zevran made himself comfortable, taking a seat near the mageling's room in order to wait for her. Fenris, for his part, couldn't adopt such a relaxed demeanor. He couldn't quite shake the feeling that he didn't belong in the shop, especially not with the questioning glances that had been shot his way.

"Relax," the assassin told him from his seat. "You are so nervous that I am starting to worry."

Fenris snorted. "I can't help but notice that I stick out here."

"That's only because you think so and very loudly at that. There is nothing so strange about a fine lady being accompanied by elven servants."

"Perhaps," said Fenris, "but that doesn't mean—" Fenris' train of thought was abruptly interrupted by the whooshing sound of Hawke drawing the curtain open. The mageling demurely stepping out of the changing room, clad in one of the sets of robes Zevran had chosen.

She was, in a word, stunning. The dark green of the robes perfectly set off the paleness of her complexion and the dark glory of her hair. The robes were cut so they highlighted the fact that she had curves in all the right places rather than hid them. Fenris' mouth went dry as he couldn't stop himself from looking at her. It was a far cry from the clothes Hawke had worn since Fenris had met her, clothes that made it easier for him to ignore the budding attraction to her that had haunted him ever since she had healed him on that first day.

"Now that is perfect, little one." Zevran clapped his hands in glee. "Those robes are quite charming on you. And the color—not only is it perfect for you, it is also quite practical. You'll find that dark green blends in very well in the dark."

"Maybe," Hawke said noncommittally. "What do you think?" she asked Fenris.

He gulped nervously once before replying. "Those robes fit well enough. I do not think they will impede your movement in battle and so I would hazard that they are adequate."

Hawke's face fell, and she bit her lower lip in disappointment. Zevran gave an exasperated huff. "You, my friend, need help, serious help, if you think that is an appropriate response. But let me translate for you, little one. Our grumpy friend likes those robes very much as do I. We are most definitely getting them. Now go try on the others."

Hawke wound up trying four other sets of robes. In the end, she walked out with three new robes: the green one she had first tried on along with one set in purple and another in grey. Each outfit had the same distressing tendency of emphasizing of just how desirable Hawke was. When they were finished, Zevran insisted that Hawke wear the green robes out for her old set was simply not fit to wear any longer.

Their shopping excursion moved on to the grocer's after they had finished settling up with the tailor. "Shouldn't we see about meeting your contact?" Hawke asked as they walked out the door.

Zevran shook his head no. "No, not yet. I'd rather wait for him to have the chance to get a few drinks in him. That should make him more amenable to helping us. Besides if things go badly, we'll have to leave in a hurry. It's best for us to get all our supplies now."

As much as Fenris hated to admit it, what the other elf said made sense. So the party spent the rest of the afternoon replacing their supplies. The sun had begun to set when Zevran finally got down to business and led them to a rather rundown tavern in a poorer section of town.

The assassin entered the tavern first, followed by Hawke and then Fenris. It took a moment for Fenris' eyes to adjust to having less light inside but the assassin had no such problem. One glance around the room was all he needed to locate his contact, a brown-haired man with a slight stoop to his shoulders, sitting at the bar.

"Lorenzo! My old friend! Imagine seeing you here," Zevran called out cheerfully as he walked over to the bar with the other two in tow. "Let me buy you a drink," he offered. Though the assassin's mood was relaxed, there was a tension to him that hadn't been there before.

Lorenzo snorted derisively. "Still not dead, are you, Zevran?" he noted. "That is indeed a surprise."

"When you say things like that, old friend, it makes me think that you are not happy to see me," replied the elf.

"That's because I'm not." The old man brought his tankard to his lips and took a long draught. "The innocent act doesn't work for you, Zevran. It never has, and I doubt it ever will. Why don't you drop it and get down to business?"

"Direct as always my friend." Zevran dropped into the seat next to the man. He waved over the bartender and ordered a couple of drinks. Fenris snuck a glance at Hawke to see if she would join the others at the bar, but she hung back, looking oddly uncomfortable. He sidled over closer to her, so he could shield her in case things got ugly.

That movement was enough to divert Lorenzo's attention on to them. His head whipped around, and the old man gave a slight snort of disbelief. "What is this I see? These are not your usual partners, Zevran."

"Oh really? I didn't notice," was the assassin's snarky reply.

Lorenzo didn't look amuse. "I think you might have spent too much time in the sun. I don't remember you being this stupid. Really, Zevran, you are something else. Most people would reconsider their path if even their partners are not willing to support them. You, however, plow on ahead despite everyone warning you not to. You are too stubborn to take advice. Even then I never pegged you as one to have a death wish."

"I don't," Zevran replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "The reward is just too tempting to pass up."

"I would think it's not worth your life."

"My life? It doesn't have that much value. But you have asked me to be direct and so I shall. Have you heard anything about Brax or his group?"

"Just because you do not care to live doesn't mean I feel the same," Lorenzo replied. He took another swig from his tankard. "I cannot help you with this."

"I'm afraid it is not a matter of can or can't, old friend." There was a tinge of foreboding in the elf's voice that was driven by something like desperation. Somehow the tavern felt colder and darker. From the way the mageling moved closer to him, Fenris could tell she could sense the rising danger too.

"Is that a threat?" Lorenzo asked quietly. He set his tankard down.

"Not at all. I would never threaten you. Consider this a reminder. You owe me for that time in Orlais when that chevalier had by the balls. Best case scenario, you would be a eunuch, old friend. Worst case scenario…well you would hardly be in a position to help me if you were dead."

"I see. So that's your game. You are calling in that old debt." Lorenzo leaned back in his seat, a small frown on his face. Then he shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose I would do the same in your situation, seeing how it is your life that is now on the line."

"So what do you say, Lorenzo? Do we have a deal?"

"I tell you what I know, and everything between us is settled, right?"

Zevran nodded his head.

"How can I say no to an offer like that? Very well. I will tell you what I know." The old man finished his drink in one gulp and put it down on the bar with a thud. The bartender was quick to refill it even though he wasn't asked.

"Well? Don't you have some information to give me? The sooner you tell me, the sooner I'll be out of your hair." Zevran shifted back and forth on his feet as he awaited the other man's answer.

Lorenzo's lips twisted with a sardonic grin. "I know nothing," he said.

"What? I don't believe this. Are you going back on our deal? You owe me, Lorenzo, you owe me your life," the assassin said hotly.

"Not any more. Do not forget the terms you offered me. I tell you what I know, and the debt I owe you is repaid. I know nothing. My men might, but I do not. It is not my fault that you did not verify I had any information to give you before offering such a bargain."

"Do not lie to me! If your men have seen Brax, then they must report it to you!"

"Not if they have orders not to," the old man replied. His eyes were cold as he regarded the assassin. "Your business here is done, Zevran. Leave an old man alone to drink in peace. You do not wish to quarrel with me. You have enough problems as it is." He lifted his tankard up in a mock toast. "I tell you what. Though you didn't ask for it, I will grant you safe passage through my territory. The night is young. Why don't you find another tavern where you can drink and perhaps have a bit of fun with your pretty companions?"

The old man turned back to the bar, all but dismissing Zevran. For a moment, Fenris thought that the other elf was going to backstab Lorenzo, and he mentally prepared himself to fight. However, the elf let out one muffled curse before turning on his heel and stomping away with the other two left chasing after.

"Unbelievable!" Zevran exclaimed after they had exited. "A guild master not knowing what is happening in his territory? I am not such a fool to believe such a patently false tale."

"Should we find an inn for the night so we can regroup?" Hawke asked as she struggled to keep up with the angry elf.

"No," was the assassin's reply. "We must press on. I can hardly trust Lorenzo's word after his actions today. And even if the old man is telling the truth this time about granting us safe passage, I want to accept nothing from such a bastard. We will set up camp once we are a safe distance away."

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> I'm afraid I'm beginning to sound like a broken record but much thanks to everyone kind enough to leave a review. Seriously I appreciate them so much. :D


	8. Chapter 8

**Promises: Chapter Eight  
><strong>

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine but Bioware's.

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><p>There was a dark cloud hanging over the assassin's head as they fled the small town. Both Fenris and Hawke lingered behind the blond elf as he muttered angrily to himself while making wild gestures with his hands. Zevran was unhinged from his encounter with Lorenzo, and it was not the time to be in his line of fire.<p>

The three of them didn't pause to rest until it was almost midnight. It was impossible to set up a proper camp in the dark. They made do with sleeping on the bare ground after agreeing to a rotating watch just in case they were followed by any of Lorenzo's men.

As they stopped so late, they didn't set out again until it was almost ten in the morning. By then, the assassin's bad mood had dissipated. Zevran was back to his usual self, animatedly chatting with Hawke as the two of them walked along side by side while occasionally directing an overly flirtatious remark at Fenris.

Fenris noticed, however, that Hawke didn't seem to be as comfortable in the other elf's presence any more. It was a subtle change, and only one who knew her was well as Fenris did would recognize it. They had seen a different side to Zevran back in that tavern, a darker side. While Fenris had always suspected that the other elf was more than the cheerful fool he pretended to be, Hawke had been more accepting of his charade. Now the veil had been lifted from her eyes. While she still chatted the day away with the assassin, she was more reserved and did not volunteer information non-stop the way she had before.

The assassin might have already known everything worth knowing about them by that point, but still Fenris took comfort in the fact that his mageling was no longer so trusting of the other elf.

Despite their late start, Zevran insisted on breaking for lunch at the usual time. "Only a fool would press on in this heat," he claimed as he lounged under a tree.

Fenris scoffed openly. "And of course it's not as though we're in any particular hurry," he stated flatly.

"That is where you are wrong, my friend. Time is of the essence. However, I am certain that we will make better time by not running ourselves into exhaustion," was the assassin's smooth reply.

There were times when Fenris really hated working with stubborn people. This was one of them. He couldn't remember the last time he was able to get either of his traveling companions to take his advice.

"Let it go, Fenris," Hawke murmured to him as she sat down beside him. "Think of it this way—if we had stayed at an inn for the night like we had originally planned, we would probably be further back than we are now. Besides I have to admit that I am a little tired."

Fenris took a good look at the mageling and saw that she was speaking nothing but the truth. She did look worse for wear. The harsh pace the assassin had set for them the night before as they left town had clearly taken its toll on her. So Fenris stifled his remaining objections and kept watch over the tired mageling as she drifted into a nap after eating a light lunch.

The mageling was noticeably refreshed when they continued on their journey once more. There was a lightness to her step that had been missing before. They didn't get far, however, when they ran into a group of fifteen or so men. Fenris recognized them immediately as slave hunters from their garb.

"Well, well it seems our luck has finally turned," said a large man in front of the pack. "It looks like we've run into the elf that Brax has been after."

"But which elf is it, boss?" another man asked. "We're supposed to bring back a tattooed elf that has fair hair and tanned skin. Both elves fit that description."

"Which just means we're even luckier than I first thought," his boss replied. "The elf Brax wants has to be one of 'em. And look—they've a pretty little piece of fluff with them. I don't think this day can get any better." The leader of the slave hunters unslung a wicked looking axe. "Let's get 'em, boys." That was all the signal needed for the slave hunters to charge the odd trio.

"Not even an introduction? How amateur. I can't remember the last time I had the misfortune to meet someone with so little style or grace," Zevran said mockingly before vanishing into thin air.

Fenris allowed himself one brief curse in Arcanum before drawing his sword. His markings flared to life, illuminating his surroundings, as he phased into that space between the real and the fade that he knew so well. As he set himself up in his battle stance to meet the initial charge of slavers, he was enveloped by his usual battle calm. While battle might get others' hearts racing, it had an opposite effect on him. He became cool and collected, and this enabled him to better see the flow and direction of the fight. Fenris gripped his sword tightly, already mentally mapping out the moves he would make.

The leading rush of the hunters was barely ten feet away from him when fire erupted from both above and beneath them. The putrid stench of burning flesh filled Fenris' nose, almost making him gag as a small, sarcastic part of him reflected that Hawke was bad at cooking just about everything. Her fireball sent several of the men staggering although none of them fell.

Unfortunately the leader of the slavers had witnessed the entire thing. "They've got a blighted mage!" he shouted as his subordinates regrouped. "Ignore the elves! Take the mage down before she fries us all!"

A half dozen of the slave hunters recovered enough to attack once more. Fenris stepped forward, engaging as many of them as he could with his greatsword, but still two slipped past his guard and headed towards Hawke. Fenris hacked away at the hunters facing him, quickly felling them only to be hit by an onslaught of arrows as the slavers' three archers had him in their sights, leaving him hard-pressed to come to Hawke's aid.

A gesture of the mageling's hands had one frozen in mid-step but completely missed the other slaver, who was now so close to Hawke that she didn't have the time or the space to cast another spell. Though he could not spare a glance back at her, Fenris could feel his mageling's panic rising as he retreated back to her as fast as he could while parrying arrow after arrow.

Then the slaver threatening Hawke slumped to the ground with both of Zevran's daggers buried deep in his back. The assassin offered Hawke a roguish wink before vanishing yet again only to reappear to take down the frozen slave hunter with a flurry of strikes. Safe from immediate harm, Hawke curled her fingers inward, lightning sparking from their tips. Then with a flick of her wrist, she sent the lightning arcing through the air towards the archers, the bolt leaping from one to another and ending their attack on Fenris.

By now, Zevran had finished dismantling the man frozen by Hawke. He walked up until he was just behind Fenris and surveyed the slave hunters who were left. The remaining hunters had formed a small half circle around their leader. The assassin rolled his eyes. "You know there is such a thing as making it too easy," he noted as he pulled a small flask from his belt. He tossed the flask at the slavers, stunning them all at once.

The slave hunters didn't put up much of a fight after that.

Fenris and Hawke found out that Zevran was just as accustomed to looting corpses as they were. "Do you think someone told them where to find us?" Hawke asked as the trio rifled through pockets looking for coin and valuable trinkets.

"I wouldn't put such a dirty trick past Lorenzo, that slimy old bastard," Zevran replied. "However, I know he's scared shitless of Brax and his ilk. He would want no contact with the master slaver, not if he could avoid it."

"He might have been trying to curry favor with Brax," Fenris pointed out.

"While I cannot rule out that possibility, I do not think so. Lorenzo is too wily a character to get into bed with such a violent man like Brax. And I mean that literally as well as figuratively."

"One track mind much?" Hawke noted snarkily earning her a laugh from the assassin.

"Little one, you will find that most men spend most of their waking hours thinking of one thing and one thing only," Zevran began.

"And then there's the blond fool before us who hardly thinks of anything else," Fenris put in before Zevran could complete that thought.

"What is this I hear? Was that a joke from our grumpy companion?" Zevran looked over at Hawke, disbelief written all over his face. "Tell me I'm not hallucinating," he demanded of her.

"You're not hallucinating. Fenris does have a sense of humor." She smiled over at the elf fondly, and Fenris ducked his head so she wouldn't see him blush. "But to bring your one track mind back to my original topic, Zev, I think it might be prudent if we take a less direct route to Antiva City, especially if Lorenzo knows that is where we are headed. It can't hurt to be careful."

"You are as wise as you are beautiful, little one," Zevran said, bowing gallantly. "You might regret saying that, however. I do know alternate routes—three of them in fact—but none of them are as easy as this one."

"Our current path can hardly be considered easy if we're going to be harassed by slave hunters all along the way," Fenris noted.

"All true I'll allow you. But don't think that I haven't noticed that you always agree with Hawke," said Zevran. "For example back when I suggested we take a break you were all against it until she wanted to stop too. I know she's prettier than me but you could agree with one of my suggestions once in a while. You know try something different and break up the monotony of always going along with whatever Hawke says."

Fenris didn't deign in replying to the other elf's complaint. Hawke, on the other hand, laughed merrily. "Oh Zev, believe you me, Fenris and I don't always see eye to eye," she told the assassin.

"That would be easier to believe if I could see some disagreement between the two of you in action," Zevran replied. He threw up his hands in acquiescence. "But enough. I know when I am outnumbered. Since my trusty—and more to the point dangerous and deadly—companions feel it is best that we take another path, we'll do exactly that. I don't want to hear any complaints later on though about it being tough," he added with a wag of his finger.

They finished going through the slavers' belongings, finding little of note. Both Zevran and Hawke were disappointed that they didn't find any additional notes or letters on any of the men, but Fenris could only feel relief. If they had found new documents, it would have simply been another chance for Hawke to discover that he didn't know how to read. Maybe it was vanity, but that was one thing he didn't want her to find out about him for it would certainly diminish him in her eyes.

The new route Zevran took them on required them to backtrack for the better part of the next hour. Then he took them off of the road they had been on and then first through an open field and later a thick forest. The going was rough just as the assassin had warned and their pace was slowed by that, but on the bright side, they didn't run into any other slavers.

It was getting dark when Fenris' ears picked up the sound of water rushing by. The twitch of Zevran's ears betrayed that he heard the same sound. "We'll be stopping shortly," the blond elf announced. "I'm not very fond of trying to ford through the rapids without light to see."

Soon enough the small group came to a great river. "We'll camp on the banks tonight and look for a way across tomorrow," said Zevran. "That is unless of course the two of you decide to take leave of your senses and gang up against me in this too."

Fenris decided to let Hawke take care of that silly remark. The mageling rolled her eyes. "You are fond of being ridiculous today, aren't you? We're not going to argue with you on the rare occasion you make sense, Zev. If anything, I feel like throwing a party to celebrate this moment. Who knows when it will happen again? Anyway I think we're best off with cold rations tonight again. I know you're disappointed in my not cooking but I think it's best that we not start a fire. It might attract too much attention."

"Hmm," said Fenris, "I am struck with the sudden urge to disagree with you and insist that you cook…just to try something different like someone recommended I do earlier today."

Zevran fixed them both with a steely glare. "I give up. There is just no winning against the two of you when you are like this," he declared dramatically. "I will scout around to make sure that no one has followed us while you two make camp."

"Personally I think that's just a convenient excuse he uses to get out of any real work," Hawke said after Zevran was out of sight.

"That would be keeping with what we know of his character," Fenris agreed. "However I suspect that we will be able to set up for the night quicker without him around to muck things up."

It took hardly any time at all for Hawke and Fenris to set up the make-shift bedrolls they had been using. Normally the bedrolls would have been arranged around their fire, but seeing how they were going without a fire to keep them warm this night, the two of them decided that putting the bedrolls in a straight line would suffice. Fenris made certain that he was between Hawke and the assassin. He knew that Hawke was rolling her eyes at him, but he didn't care. If the assassin ever did decide to betray them, Fenris was better equipped to react to a surprise attack than Hawke was.

Of course, that was something else for Fenris to take care of. "Are you hungry now?" he asked Hawke. "Or would you mind a bit of exercise before dinner?"

"I can wait to eat. What do you have in mind?" was her reply.

"It occurred to me that while I bought you a dagger to defend yourself in close quarters, I have been most remiss in showing you how to use it," he told her. He frowned, silently berating himself for not doing this sooner. "It would have come in handy today, I think."

The mageling wrinkled her nose and pouted. "And here I had thought you had forgotten all about that."

He raised an eyebrow and looked down his nose at her, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "And here I thought you knew me better than that by now. There was never a chance I would forget about something so important." He looked critically at her then, his eyes narrowing as he realized that her dagger did not appear to be on her belt. "Where did you put it anyway?" he asked her, his tone sharp. "It's not on your person."

"That's because I put it in my pack where it would be nice and safe," Hawke said.

"And of no use to you whatsoever. Let this be your first lesson. You have to keep your weapon of last resort close at hand at all times. Neither a slaver nor a templar is likely to pause to give you a chance to rummage through your bag for it."

"I know that, Fenris." The mageling gritted her teeth in aggravation.

"I would believe that if you had your dagger available rather than tucked away where it will do you no good. Go on then. Get it out. I want to give you a brief lesson while it is still light."

Hawke huffed with annoyance but trotted over to where they had laid their packs on the ground. It took her some time to find the dagger Fenris had so kindly purchased for her with what little coin he had. He rather thought that she was purposefully dragging her feet when it came to locating the weapon. However, he did not remark upon her recalcitrance because Hawke would take advantage of any comment of his as an opportunity for further procrastination by way of arguing with him about whether or not she was moving slowly on purpose.

He knew his mageling well, and Hawke was nothing if not predictable at times.

After what seemed to be an eternity, Hawke finally stumbled upon the dagger. "Here it is," she said as she walked back over to him. She thrust it into his hands, hilt first.

"Thank you," he said dryly. "So is it safe to assume that you know nothing of the basics when it comes to handling a blade?"

"The only blade I've ever really worked with is a kitchen knife." She snapped her fingers at him. "And don't. Just don't even think about using that as a diving board for a smart comment about my cooking."

"I wouldn't dream of it. Seeing how you haven't ever used a dagger before, we'll start at the very beginning with how to hold it properly."

As things turned out, Fenris had to start by showing Hawke how to properly draw the blade before moving on to how to hold it and then finally how to use it. Though she had never used a bladed weapon before, Hawke was a quick study. He only had to demonstrate basic maneuvers a few times before she was able to mimic his moves nigh perfectly. He found himself quite satisfied with her progress. Fenris was about to show Hawke an intermediate move when the time the third member of their party returned.

"What is this?" Zevran exclaimed loudly, effectively interrupting the lesson. "You are trying to teach the little one how to use a dagger? And without me?" He shot Fenris a look of disdain. "If anyone should be teaching Hawke, it should be me seeing how daggers are my specialty."

"There are a lot of things that seem to be your specialty," Hawke noted with a sly grin.

"What can I say? I'm a man of many talents."

"But little modesty," Fenris said.

"Ha! False modesty is so unbecoming, don't you think? But that's beside the point. Now that I'm here I can take over Hawke's lesson while you fix us dinner," the assassin proclaimed.

"No."

Zevran sent his eyes skyward. "You, my friend, take great enjoyment in being difficult, but even you can't deny that I know more about this particular subject than you. Besides your method of teaching is crude and ineffective. You can't just show the little one what to do. You have to step in and guide her, show her how to move by letting her body follow yours. Perhaps you do not have much experience with such one-on-one instruction, but I assure you that I do." There was a large, shit-eating grin on the assassin's face as he finished with a flourish.

Fenris bit back a barely concealed growl. There was no way he was going to let Zevran take over Hawke's lesson after that speech. He knew exactly what sort of intentions Zevran had, and they were hardly honorable. Fenris eyed the other elf. Should he even try to convince the assassin that his offer was not only unnecessary but most unwanted, or should he save himself the headache and just knock Zevran out using the flat of his blade?

A peal of laughter cut through his brooding thoughts. "Oh Zevran," Hawke said, chortling merrily all the while. "Who do you think you're fooling? I mean honestly…you have to step in and guide her," she said in a passable imitation of the elf's voice. "For someone who claims to be an expert seducer, that wasn't very smooth at all."

"Besides which, I don't know why you even bother," she went on. "I thought I made it clear to you that I'm immune to your charms that time you tried to join me when I was taking a bath in the river."

Fenris' head whipped around to glare at the assassin. When did that incident happen? This time he actually did growl as he realized that he hadn't been keeping as close an eye on his mageling's interactions with the assassin as he had thought.

Hawke glanced over at Fenris upon hearing his voice. "I'm sorry, Fenris," she said with a smile. "I don't think I'll be able to concentrate after this. How about we eat now? I'm starving."

Hawke sheathed her dagger with a fluid grace she didn't have an hour before. She began ambling back to the spot where they had left their packs. As the two elves watched her, Zevran muttered half to himself, "This is why I hate traveling with couples. They never think of anyone's needs except their own."

Fenris opened his mouth to deny the accusation that he and Hawke were a couple but closed it. A denial would only encourage Zevran's efforts to seduce both of his companions. However, Fenris couldn't help but get one last jab in at Zevran. "I suspect you're able to take your needs in hand," he said as he turned to follow Hawke.

That earned him an utterly disgusted glare from the assassin, who stalked away back into the woods, cursing with each step.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> My thanks to everyone taking the time to read my fic and especially to those nice enough to review it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Promises: Chapter Nine  
><strong>

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

* * *

><p>There had been slaves from all nations in Danarius' household, not a few of which stubbornly clung to a sense of national pride long after any such feeling should have been extinguished. When an Orlesian slave would proudly proclaim that Val Royeaux was the most beautiful city in the world, an Antivan slave would inevitably proclaim that Antiva City was better because it was the most romantic.<p>

As they looked down upon the capital from atop the nearest mount, Fenris was inclined to agree with that assessment. Long, graceful spires reached up to the sky, towering over a series of tapering bridges and canals while the sea was a sparkling blue gem hovering just off the horizon.

"Oh!" Hawke gasped. "It's beautiful," she said, giving voice to Fenris' thoughts.

"Yes, Antiva City is very much like a painted whore. Beautiful when looked at from afar and utterly charming after you've had a couple pints or more of ale, but under morning's harsh light, it is horrifying to discover how truly ugly and diseased-ridden she is." Bitterness bubbled under the assassin's words, causing both Fenris and Hawke to turn their heads to examine their companion. Zevran's lips were twisted into a frown, rather than its usual smile, and his features had taken on a hardness they hadn't seen before.

"I thought Antiva City was your home," Hawke put in hesitantly.

"It is when I am there. That doesn't mean I have to like it," Zevran said with a shrug. "Have a care as we travel the city, my friends. Death is cheap here, and life is even cheaper." With those rather ominous words, the blond elf headed down the final hill.

Zevran led them through the winding estates that surrounded Antiva City. As they passed by yet another palatial residence, Hawke asked, "Is it safe to live outside the city walls?"

"It's as safe here as it is anywhere," Zevran replied. "There really isn't any wildlife that would threaten anyone near here. The only true threats are assassins."

"Like yourself," Fenris noted.

Zevran nodded his head. "Indeed. That is one of the reasons why those who can afford so build their homes outside the city so they can arrange for all sorts of elaborate traps to discourage an assassin. Not that that sort of thing works. There is more than one way to break into a guarded estate."

"Oh? It sounds like you have some experience there," Hawke said.

"I wouldn't be much of an assassin if I didn't. Myself, I prefer to receive an invitation rather than resort to skulking across a roof during the cold of night. Preferably from my target as that makes things even easier."

Hawke tilted her head to one side as she processed what Zevran said. "Someone who knows assassins are after them would invite a strange elf into their home? That doesn't make much sense."

"Ah! You must not have much experience dealing with nobles, little one. Nobles don't have much use for common sense. It's too common for them."

Hawke looked askance at that assertion, and Fenris shared her doubt. "Um…I'll take your word for it. But seeing how the estates don't provide much in the way of an effective defense against assassins, there surely must be more reasons to live out here rather than in the city."

"Yes, of course. There's more room outside the city walls. You've been in Denerim, yes?" At Hawke's nod, the assassin continued. "The back alleys of Antiva City are just as crowded and cramped, if not more so. Besides that, there is the smell."

"The smell?" Fenris and Hawke asked in unison.

"Yes. All cities have their own peculiar smell. Denerim, for example, is renowned for smelling of mud. In Val Royeaux, one is overwhelmed by the clashing perfumes the nobles of that city prefer. The port cities of Antiva are no different, and their odor is truly unique. None is quite as unique as the smell of Antiva City. It is hard to describe. You will just have to experience it."

Fenris was dismayed to discover what Zevran had meant as soon as the trio entered the city gates and stepped into the city proper. The canals that acted as the major thoroughfares in lieu of streets were rather too convenient for the city's residents to ignore. The resulting stench was overwhelming to his sensitive nose, and it sent him gagging. Even the sewers that he and Hawke had fled into in the hopes of avoiding templars smelled better. "Dare I hope that our destination isn't too far from here?" asked Fenris.

"The old friend that I want to meet is most likely at the docks," was the assassin's reply.

"Wouldn't that be clear across town?" asked Hawke. She too looked a little wan, and she wobbled on her feet. Fenris remembered how much his mageling had complained about the sewers; surely she must be suffering almost as much as he was currently.

"It is indeed." Zevran favored his traveling companions with a pitying glance. "Don't worry. With time, you'll start to ignore it. Try to stay away from the water's edge for now. That should help a little."

"Thanks for the advice. It would have never occurred to me otherwise," Hawke mumbled sarcastically. If she felt well enough to launch her usual snarky replies, then she couldn't be that bad off, Fenris decided.

"Ha! You tempt me to have us travel strictly by gondola rather than keeping to the streets and footpaths when possible, little one."

Hawke pulled a face. "Please don't. I might get sick. Repeatedly. And if I do, I'll make sure it's on you."

"Now that is indeed a fearsome threat, little one. Very well then. I'll do as you asked but only because I like you," the assassin said grandly.

Both Fenris and Hawke kept as far away from the water as possible as Zevran took up the lead once more. Antiva City was like a maze, but the assassin had long ago memorized its twists and turns. The city's layout made little sense, and Fenris would have been hard pressed to find his way out again, especially with the pounding headache that had taken up residence in his skull because of the city's unique smells. One glance at his mageling told him that she was in a similar state if the way she kept rubbing her temples was anything to go by.

When Fenris asked Zevran if he was truly choosing the straightest and quickest route, however, the assassin's testy reply was that they were taking the safest route. "It would be quicker to go through the chantry's district," he informed them, "but templars inevitably lurk there. So no this isn't the most direct route but I think it is best. It will cost us in time, but I think the little one will agree with me that it is well worth it."

Fenris was gratified to hear that the assassin was taking Hawke's special circumstances into consideration. It was more than he ever expected from the other elf. But then he supposed he shouldn't be too surprised for it seemed as though the assassin was truly fond of Hawke. Fenris knew that such fondness wouldn't keep Zevran from hunting down Hawke if the Crows demanded it, but at least it led the other elf to think of the mageling's comfort.

They wound up having to travel by gondola twice, the first time to avoid the crowded marketplace and the second time to cross into the dock district. Thankfully by the time they reached the docks, Zevran's prediction that they would eventually become acclimated to the smell proved to be accurate. While it was still unpleasant, Fenris no longer was tempted to hack off his nose.

"We're almost there," Zevran told them as they stepped off of the gondola. "My friend tends to favor this one bar whenever she's in town. I've tried to convince her that there are taverns with better ale but she insists that this one offers the best choice for the money along with food that is occasionally edible." The elf rolled his eyes. "She can be stubborn like that. Reminds me of you two, actually."

The assassin entered the tavern first, followed by Hawke and then Fenris. As Fenris' eyes adjusted to the dim lighting inside, he was struck with a sense of déjà vu. This all felt remarkably similar to the last contact Zevran had tried to charm into divulging useful information. Remembering how well that went down, Fenris instinctively stepped closer to his mageling even as she did the same.

"There she is." Zevran made a beeline to the bar where a dusky woman sat alone with a pair of empty tankards before her as she signaled the bartender to refill them both. A pair of wicked looking daggers rested upon her back, and the woman's choice of clothing was most…unusual.

"Is it me or is she not wearing any pants?" Hawke mumbled to Fenris.

"No. Your keen power of observation has not failed you, Hawke. The assassin's friend is indeed not wearing any pants," Fenris agreed dryly, earning him a sharp elbow from Hawke. Inwardly he wondered just what sort of establishment this was. The two of them cautiously followed Zevran as he approached his contact.

"Isabela!" Zevran exclaimed upon reaching the bar. "It has been entirely too long since I last set eyes on your lovely figure, my dear."

The woman sighed once before turning to face the assassin, tankard in hand. "Zevran," she said lifting her cup up in greeting before taking a drink. "Of course it's you. Somehow I knew you would show up after I made port."

"Is that any way to greet an old friend? You hardly seem to be happy to see me." The assassin pouted as he took a seat next to the woman.

"That's mine," Isabela said sharply as Zevran reached for her other tankard. "Go get your own."

"But you have two, lovely Isabela. Surely you can share one with me."

"No, love, I can't. Not when I have to deal with your bullshit this early in the evening." Isabela expertly swiped her second mug away from the elf, leaving Zevran with no recourse but to order his own. The elven assassin did so promptly.

"So Isabela, what brings you to town?" he asked, relaxing back in his seat as the bartender delivered his order.

"Nothing of consequence," was the woman's reply. "Though I've heard a most interesting rumor about you. Tell me, is it true that you have taken leave of your senses?"

"That depends on what you mean—"

Isabela groaned and let her head fall against the bar. "Andraste's ass. It is true. You can never give a straight answer when someone catches you doing something foolish. You have taken on that blighted job, haven't you? And that's why you're here to see if you can drag me into it. Well, my answer is no."

"But I haven't even asked you anything yet."

Isabela gave the assassin a pointed glare. "You don't have to. You're predictable, Zev. You're here to either ask for any information I might have or for me to help you more directly or most likely both. It doesn't really matter as my answer is no. Just because you've decided to die young doesn't mean that I have to go down in a similar blaze of glory."

"Who said anything about dying? Me, I thought I would track Brax down, defeat him with ease and return the recruits to the Crows, and be richly rewarded for my troubles. I assure you, dearest Isabela, dying has no part in my plans."

"That would lead me to conclude that your plans are shit."

"Do you truly have so little faith in me?"

The woman snorted. "It would be more accurate to say I've no faith in whatever mad scheme you've dreamt up now. I can tell you haven't thought things through when you're blindly buttering me up like there's no tomorrow." She finished her first tankard and moved on to her second. "I'm sorry, Zevran. I wish you the best of luck and all for I'd rather not see you dead, but I've got my own skin to think of. Just because you've lost it and decided to jump off of a cliff, doesn't mean that I have to do the same." She uttered a soft sigh. "You know, you were the last person I'd ever suspect of developing a death wish."

"Like I said before, when I took this job I had no great expectations of dying. It would be difficult, yes, but I've taken on difficult jobs before. But then again I had thought I could count on people I know to at least pass along what tidbits they've heard." There was that bitter quality to Zevran's voice yet again, the one that came out to play whenever he was disappointed by something. "Evidently I do not know you half as well as I thought," he finished with a frown.

"Oh Zev. You are in a bad state, aren't you?" Isabela propped her elbows against the top of the bar and gazed sadly at the assassin. She shook her head. "Fine. I shouldn't be even telling you this much, but because it's you, I will. You know that slavers regularly hire raiders and their ships to transport their cargo, right?"

Zevran nodded his head eagerly. "Yes, I do. I take it there are a lot of those sorts of jobs around right now."

"Care to take a guess about how many?" Isabela asked. She took a swig of ale before holding up a clenched fist. "That's how many."

The assassin wrinkled his brow as he tried to work out the implications of Isabela's statement. "What? I don't know what you mean to say here."

Isabela rolled her eyes. "It means that slavers are not currently hiring anyone to ferry their cargo across the sea. Usually I hear of all sorts of offers to do so and many captains are eager to offer their ships as the slavers always pay good coin, but since making port, I've heard nothing about such things."

"I see. You've heard nothing." Zevran's face darkened, and it was apparent the elf was remembering the last time he heard those words. "It's funny how often I get that response these days."

Fenris bit back the urge to hit the other elf on top of his head for being so obtuse. His friend was trying to help him, but the silly assassin couldn't put two and two together. Fenris decided to connect the dots for the other elf. "What she means to say," said Fenris, keeping his voice low, "is that if there are no jobs for raiders to ferry slaves by sea, then obviously the slavers must be intending to transport their cargo by land."

Isabela's eyes flickered over to Fenris. A slow grin crossed her face, and she looked him at, first up, then down and then up again. "That's exactly my point," she agreed with a smile. "Zevran, you didn't tell me that you were traveling with such a clever and handsome elf," she scolded the assassin, never taking her eyes off of Fenris.

Fenris was unnerved by the weight of the woman's regard. He was grateful when Hawke stepped forward, allowing him the chance to duck behind her. He wasn't hiding, he told himself as he lowered his head, just trying to divert the woman's attention on to something else, anything else.

It worked. Isabela let out a soft gasp as Hawke came into her field of view. "And aren't you just precious?" she exclaimed. The raider jumped out of her seat and slinked forward, her hips swaying with each step. Stopping before Hawke, she reached out a hand to cup Hawke's cheek. "You are truly the most adorable thing I've run across in awhile, kitten. Tell me, Zev, how do you find them?" Isabela asked lightheartedly as she continued to stare at his mageling.

Fenris found that he didn't appreciate the raider focusing her attention on Hawke either. With a barely disguised growl, he grasped Hawke's shoulder and harshly yanked her away from the other woman. Isabela's eyes widened, and her mouth formed a small 'o'.

Then she started laughing. "So that's how it is?" Isabela got out amidst hearty gales of laughter. "Oh poor, poor Zev. I feel for you, I really do. Why didn't you just say something? I thought you were being awfully moody, and now I know why. How long has it been?"

"I'm not going to answer that," said the assassin.

Isabela's eyebrows shot up. "That long, huh?" She tossed a smile at Fenris and Hawke. "One of you really should have taken pity on Zev. It must have been a real blow to his self-esteem for him to realize that he isn't half as irresistible as he thinks he is."

"I am still here, you know, Isabela," Zevran said testily, tapping one foot.

"Yes, and that's why you can't be too upset. At least I'm not talking about you behind your back."

"Considering the topic of conversation, I think I almost prefer that you would." Then the elven assassin waggled his eyebrows suggestively at the pirate. "Unless of course you intend to help me with my little problem."

Fenris snorted at Zevran's choice of words while Hawke let out a soft chuckle. Isabela settled for rolling her eyes. "Honestly, Zev, when you put it like that, it's hardly a tempting proposition."

Surprisingly a blush covered Zevran's cheeks. "I didn't mean it like that!" he protested, his cheeks a bright red. "I am…you can hardly say…it's not little!" he finally sputtered out, glaring at all three of his companions in turn. "And I am willing to prove it to any one of you," he added for emphasis.

"You know, I think that this is the first time I've ever seen you flustered. It must have been too long indeed." Isabela shrugged her shoulders. "Well if you like, I'm willing to help you out with your…frustration. You know, do my good deed for the year and all." She glanced back at the other two. "And if either of you wish to join us…."

Zevran scoffed openly. "I've been making the same offer for weeks, Isabela, and have been getting no where. I doubt you'll have any more luck."

"It was worth a try." She lifted her head in challenge at the assassin. "So are we going to do this? I have a room up back."

"And what are we supposed to do, just wait here?" asked Hawke, speaking for the first time since they entered the tavern.

"Why yes, kitten, unless you've decided to join us. Don't worry. I can tell from Zevran's level of frustration that it won't take all that long." She waved a hand in good bye and then sauntered off towards the stairs.

"Oh ho! Now there's a challenge I like. You'll find me able to rise up to the occasion. Repeatedly." Zevran tossed his coin pouch at Fenris. "Here this is safer with you than with me. Isabela is known for her sticky fingers. The two of you can have a couple drinks while you wait. Or get a room of your own, I don't care." He bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time, with the worry erased from his shoulders as he caught up to the pirate. He slung a carefree arm around Isabela's waist, and the two of them disappeared into the depths of the tavern.

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> Thanks to everyone who reviewed this fic! ;D


	10. Chapter 10

**Promises: Chapter Ten**

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine but Bioware's.

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><p>After Zevran had left with the raider, Fenris made a command decision and took a table in a dark corner with his mageling. He rather agreed with the pirate's estimation of just how long it would take for Zevran to conclude his business with her. As such, Fenris saw no need to get a room for the night just yet.<p>

He scowled as he took another glance at the rundown tavern. No, he would prefer to avoid spending the night in such a dingy looking place if at all possible.

"What's wrong?" Hawke asked.

"Nothing," he replied.

Hawke raised an eyebrow at him but didn't prod any further. Instead she flagged over a waitress with a wave of her arm. She ordered dinner for both of them and also asked for a couple of ales.

"Do you have any wine?" Fenris asked, interrupting Hawke as she ordered. He was sick of always getting the cheap slop these places seemed to serve. If he had to cool his heels waiting while the assassin got frisky with his lady pirate, then at least he could drink some decent wine at the assassin's expense.

Both Hawke and the waitress looked at him as though he had lost his mind. "No," the waitress said flatly. "We've got ale, and we've got beer. Take your pick."

Fenris blinked. "I wasn't aware there was a difference," he noted.

"There isn't. Well not really," Hawke said with a sigh. "That was the point." She smiled wearily up at the waitress. "But as I was saying, an ale for me and another for my grumpy friend here," she told the waitress, ignoring Fenris' grimace.

"I hope for your sake your friend's a happy drunk," the waitress said as she walked away.

The ale came out quickly enough. Fenris was pleasantly surprised that it wasn't as weak as he had feared it would be. While it wasn't strong, it wasn't just glorified water either. Dinner followed shortly after, and their tankards were still full when it arrived.

Fenris poked at the dish before him. Whatever Hawke had ordered for them appeared to be stew that was later baked. He cautiously took a bite of the concoction, and once again was happy to discover that the food was somewhat tasty, in an odd and foreign way. It was crispy on the outside while the soft center provided a delectable contrast. He took a second bite, deciding that he actually liked the dish and wouldn't mind eating it again.

"So is it safe to assume that you like the food seeing how you didn't immediately spit it out?" Hawke asked him, her nose twitching with mischief.

"I would never spit out food," he told her firmly. "If I don't like a dish, I simply refrain from taking a second bite."

Whatever smart reply that was on its way out of Hawke's mouth was lost when a woman's breathy moan echoed from above them followed by a man's chuckle. Fenris looked at the roof above them in sheer horror. He recognized those voices. He couldn't have possibly—

Another moan followed by a series of shrieks confirmed Fenris' worst fears. Of course he had the bad luck to pick the table that was right under the pirate's room. He cursed under his breath as he realized that the tavern had filled up and there were no empty tables that they could switch to. Sparing a glance for his mageling, Fenris saw that Hawke was now blushing furiously. She frantically waved down the waitress and ordered another round of ale as the blasted noises continued from above them. More ale did seem like the best way to cope if another table wasn't available.

One round of beer quickly became another and then another as the pair desperately tried to ignore the sounds from above. Hawke tried a few times to start up a conversation but each attempt was inevitably derailed by a shriek of pleasure or a satisfied groan. The men at the tables nearest to them seemed to take great delight in being accidental acoustic voyeurs, taking bets on how long the amorous pair would be able to keep things up. However, Fenris and Hawke didn't share their enjoyment. Frankly the audio show they were being treated to couldn't end too soon.

Then there was a series of increasingly loud thuds accompanied by cries from both participants. The pair's climax was highlighted audibly first by the raider with the assassin adding his voice a moment later, and then finally—finally!—there was blessed silence.

Fenris heaved a sigh of relief, happy that the assassin had finally concluded his business with his pirate friend. He looked over at Hawke's side of the table to see how she was doing. Fenris frowned as he counted the tankards of ale that were by her. There were four empty mugs, and Hawke was polishing off a fifth.

Considering that Hawke rarely finished one tankard, this couldn't be good. It was time to cut her off before things went downhill. However the mageling had other ideas. Fenris' eyebrows shot up as Hawke lifted her arm in the air to call the waitress to their table again.

"I think you have had enough for the evening," he told her firmly.

"Well thankfully you don't do my thinking for me," she told him, her head held high. Then Hawke stuck out her tongue at him, completely ruining the snotty effect she was going for, and he blinked in surprise. "I'll have another ale, please," she asked the waitress.

"No, she won't," Fenris interceded with the waitress. "I'm afraid my friend here has had her fill."

Hawke rolled her eyes. "No, I haven't."

Fenris sighed. "Yes you have. You're acting exceedingly childish at the moment, Hawke."

"Yes, well, you're being exceedingly patronizing. See! I can use big words too! Could I do that if I were drunk?" she challenged him.

"Somehow I think that the last faculty you would lose would be your ability to speak," he noted.

She grinned up at him. "Is that a compliment I hear from you?" she asked, all girlish excitement.

"You may take it as one if it pleases you."

"Good. Because Maker knows that compliments from you are rare." She turned her beaming face back to the waitress. "Anyway could you please get me another ale?"

"Have you been listening to a word I've said?" The mageling was really testing his patience. Here he was, trying to look after her and all, but she was steadfastly insisting on making things difficult. As usual.

"I have and I've decided to ignore your advice. Besides I know I can get more ale, no matter what you say. Do you want to know why?"

Fenris waved his hand in a circle. Somehow he doubted the mageling's logic would be easy to follow. "Go ahead. Enlighten me"

Hawke leaned forwarded and whispered loudly, "I'll be getting all the ale I want because our waitress likes me better than she likes you. Because I'm friendly, you see." She smiled over at the waitress, who was watching the duo's argument with something resembling bemusement. "Isn't that right? You attract more ale with honey than vinegar and all?"

"Or something like that," the waitress said amiably. "I'll be right back with your drink, my dear. Although I'll be cutting off your friend now. He doesn't seem to be the friendly kind of drunk. We don't want any sort of trouble here."

Fenris' mouth dropped open in shock. "She thinks I'm drunk?" he repeated. His mind boggled at how anyone could make that mistake. It was obvious that Hawke with her loopy grin and girlish giggling was the one who was drunk. It should also be obvious from his precise diction and straightforward glare that he was not drunk.

The waitress arrived with Hawke's order, giving Fenris a wide berth, and deposited it in front of the mageling. Fenris glared at the offending beverage, torn between being upset that Hawke had so easily circumvented his order and confused as to how anyone could mistake him for being in his cups.

"There, there, Fenris," Hawke said consolingly. "Don't worry. I'll share." She gingerly got to her feet, tottering ever so slightly as she picked up her ale, and crossed over to his side of the table. "Budge up," she said. She hip checked him before clambering on to the bench beside him.

After she had settled in, she set down the tankard on the table between them, spilling more than a little in the process. "There," she said. She tilted her head until she was almost leaning on his shoulders and then looked up at him, her bright blue eyes framed by her dark lashes. "See. Easier to share this way if we're sitting together."

Fenris gulped nervously. Having Hawke so close to him… his heart rate had just skyrocketed and his palms were sweaty. He wasn't used to being this close to anyone, and he desperately needed to put some distance between the two of them. "We were sitting together when you were on the other side of the table," he pointed out.

Hawke's face fell suddenly. "Oh," she said sadly. She blinked back tears, and Fenris felt like a brute for distressing his mageling so. "You don't like me much do you?" Her head drooped down as she posed that question.

"I—" Fenris struggled to answer his mageling truthfully. He had grown fond of Hawke during their time together—indeed more fond of her than anyone else he had ever met—but he wasn't sure that translated into liking her. Finally he told her, "I do not fear you." That was true. While he feared for Hawke and for her safety, he was confident enough in her abilities and her integrity that he feared her no longer.

"Oh!" Her cheeks were bright with emotion. "I bet that's the nicest thing you've ever said to a mage," she said breathlessly. "You do like me! In your very own grumpy, tough guy, let's keep everyone at arm's length way."

Yet again Fenris had trouble following his mageling's logic. She must be more drunk than he had previously believed. He surreptitiously eyed the mug of ale and then as quick as a snake, he hooked it over to him and downed it in a single go.

"Hey!" Hawke protested. "We were supposed to share that. It's not sharing if you finish it all."

"My apologies," he told her.

"S'alright. I can get us another."

Fenris frowned. More ale seemed like a bad idea. "No," he told her.

She smiled lazily up at him. "Haven't we've been through this before? I can order as much as I like, and you can't stop me."

"You can't. We've spent enough of Zevran's coin as it is." He crossed his fingers underneath the table, hoping that a different tack would work on the stubborn mageling.

"Ha! As if you care about that. I know that you're more than willing to spend Zevran's money. Isn't that why you started off asking for wine?"

Fenris stiffened. "I prefer wine to ale," he said.

"Maybe. But you never tried ordering wine before tonight. Besides we haven't spent all that much. The ale's cheap here, only five bits a mug."

"And how do you know that?"

Hawke rolled her pretty eyes at him. "Because it's written right there on their sign. The cheap ale is probably one of the prime attractions of this place." She pointed over to a large white sign near the bar. There were markings on it, but they held no meaning to Fenris.

"Oh. I didn't see that before," he said haltingly.

"Obviously not. Otherwise you wouldn't be complaining about spending too much on ale. Now if that's all you have to say on the subject, I'll order another."

"No." The last thing his mageling needed was another drink.

"Oh? And how do you plan to stop me? The wait staff here like me better than you. If I ask for another, I'll get it."

"And then I'll drink it before you get a chance," was his reply.

"Hey! That's not playing fair!" Hawke wrinkled her nose up at him. She was without a doubt the cutest mage Fenris had ever met by far, but he wasn't going to tell her that. He didn't want to insult his mageling, and he knew that if he told her she was cute then she would find some way to twist his words around so that she could take umbrage. So he would keep his mouth shut and concentrate on keeping Hawke from drinking another drop even if that meant drinking every single mug of ale she ordered himself.

His mageling gave a little half growl that she must have picked up from him before ignoring his warnings and ordering more ale. Fenris had to give Hawke credit for trying. As soon as the tankard was set down, her hand immediately went for it. Unfortunately the mageling was no match for his battle-honed instincts. He reached the mug before her and grinned. Hawke could only watch as Fenris slowly lifted the tankard to his lips and finished it off, placing it back down on the table with a satisfied smirk.

She gaped at him for a long minute. Then she said, "You really meant it when you said you'd drink everything before I get a chance."

He shrugged his shoulders. "I generally mean what I say. Besides it's not my fault that you're slow."

This time Hawke didn't settle for glowering and growling at him. No, she viciously kicked at him, striking at the one part of him that was left unprotected—his feet. Her aim was true, and Fenris winced as she made contact. It didn't really hurt though, and he had to point that out to her. "Good choice of target," he praised her, "but the next time we have lessons, I need to show you how to put some force behind your kicks. I hardly felt that."

"You're impossible," she told him. "But what's worse is that you're rude. It's not polite to hog all the ale."

"If you're tired of dealing with rude elves, little lady, you can join us over here." A large, bearded man from the table nearest to them leered at Hawke, his eyes lingering over her figure. "You'll find us a great deal…friendlier than the knife-ear you're associating with."

There were several things Fenris did not like in that moment. He didn't like how the human was staring at Hawke, salivating over her as though she was a piece of prime meat. He did not like the vulgar comments the brute's companions were making or the way they were acting towards Hawke in general. Hawke was a person, not an object to be coveted, but he doubted these men knew the difference. Fenris also did not like the man or any of his companions. They were a bunch of bullies and cowards, who sought strength in groups rather than standing on their own. The fact that he couldn't tell when was the last time any of them had taken a bath or if they were even acquainted with the concept only heightened his disdain.

But the thing that Fenris did not like the most was the fact that Hawke was between him and those men rather than the other way around. How could he adequately protect her if she was in front of him? He mentally chastised himself for letting Hawke take the outer position. He should have got up and offered her his seat like a gentleman when she came over to share his bench.

He would do better next time. For now, he settled for leaning over Hawke's person and snarling at the men, "She's not interested. Go away." He rested his left hand on the table in front of his mageling so he could vault over it to protect her if the need arose.

"See this is exactly what I mean about you knife-ears not having any manners. It's not polite to answer for the little lady. She can speak for herself," the man said. He wagged his finger at the elf. Fenris gritted his teeth. If he leaned forward just a little more, he could take that man's finger and snap it in half. He decided to put that thought into action.

However, the mageling's hand covered his gauntleted one and pushed it down. "Thanks but no thanks," she told the man brightly. "Fenris and I were about to leave anyway as we've got to get an early start tomorrow." She gave the man an apologetic grin to defuse the situation. Hawke hanged on to Fenris' hand as she got up, not giving him a chance to strike at any of the men still leering at her. He noticed that she was unsteady on her feet, more evidence that the mageling had more to drink that she should.

"Here. Lean against me," he commanded her.

She frowned at him but did as he said for once. "You're not very suave," she noted as they walked over to the inn portion of the tavern.

"If you wanted suave, you should have gone with the assassin."

She snorted at that suggestion. "Zev's hardly suave, just persistent."

"Agreed," he told her. He continued to hold her up as they asked and paid for a room. Fenris insisted that their room be as far away from the pirate's as possible just in case the lovebirds got a second wind. Key in hand, he helped Hawke up the stairs and to their room.

Once they reached the room, Fenris discovered he had a problem. It was difficult to hold on to Hawke while trying to fit the key into the lock.

"You did drink too much. Normally you'd have no problem opening the door," Hawke mumbled from the vicinity of his shoulder.

"Normally I wouldn't have to be propping you up," he replied.

"True that. Here. I can just rest against the wall while you try to figure out how to open the door," she said.

He wasn't sure if letting go of Hawke was the best idea—who knew what sort of trouble the mageling could get herself in if he didn't hold on to her—but he wound up having to go with her suggestion because the lock was just that blasted difficult. Both hands free, he continued to wrestle with the door. Fenris was on the verge of breaking the blighted thing when he realized his mistake. He had been inserting the key upside down.

A muttered oath later, the door was open. He turned to help Hawke when the mageling groaned. "Great," she said. "It looks like some people can't take no for an answer."

Fenris followed her line of vision and saw the man from downstairs was coming towards them, with a couple of his friends close behind him. "Thanks for getting us the room, elf," he said. "We can take it from here. Don't worry. We'll make sure the little lady enjoys herself."

"I don't think so," Fenris said flatly.

"And what are you going to do about it? A skinny elf like you against the likes of us?" The man laughed coarsely with his friends. "Even if that sword wasn't just for show, you wouldn't stand a chance."

"My sword is not for show, but for lowlifes like you, I do not need to bother drawing it." Fenris punctuated his statement by drawing back his arm and aiming a right hook right at the lead man's head.

Several bruised and battered ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and a pair of broken noses later, the louts were in full retreat. With what little grace he had left, Fenris pulled Hawke inside the room and locked the door firmly behind him. He deposited the mageling safely on the bed before taking up a spot on the floor next to it.

"Fenris," the mageling whined. She twisted and turned in the bed until she was facing him. "What are you doing? You're supposed to get the bed this time around while I take the floor."

"It's fine. I'm used to sleeping on the floor," he told her.

"No, it's not fine. I promised that I would sleep on the floor next time. You're going to make a liar out of me," she grumbled. Fenris decided the easiest course of action was to roll over on his side and ignore the mageling. If he tried to argue with her, she would go on and on and they would get little sleep. There wasn't anything she could really do to change his mind because it wasn't as though she had a way of forcing him to take the bed. While he could pick her up with ease, the same couldn't be said of her.

There was a crash, and suddenly there was a warm body beside him. "Ha! I can be stubborn too," the mageling crowed victoriously from her spot on the floor.

Fenris closed his eyes. Why did he think that ignoring her would work? With Hawke, things were never easy. "Take the bed, Hawke. There is no reason that both of us should sleep on the floor," he told her.

"Which is why you should sleep on the bed. Cause I got it last time. We're supposed to take turns," she replied. Though he wasn't looking at her, Fenris knew that Hawke had that glint in her eye, which meant that she was feeling especially stubborn.

He gritted his teeth. The mageling was too close. All he had to do was flip over, and he would be face to face with her. He could feel her hot breath in his ear. She was barely a hands width away from him. If she moved in her sleep—and he knew she did—she would be pressed up against him and—no. That thought was too much to bear.

"Take the bed, Hawke," he said in a trembling voice, his hands curled into fists as he desperately tried not to think—not about she was close enough to touch, not about how alluring she had looked when they were drinking, not about how soft her curves must be—not about anything at all. "Please," he all but begged, struggling to keep his mind blank. "For me."

Silence stretched between them and filled the room. It was broken by a soft sigh emitting from the mageling's lips. He let out the breath he had been holding as he heard Hawke get up off the floor. "All right, Fenris. I'll break my word but only for you."

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> Many thanks to everyone who reviewed this fic.


	11. Chapter 11

**Promises: Chapter Eleven**

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine but Bioware's.

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><p>Fenris woke up the next morning to the sound of someone pounding on the door. He winced as he righted himself. It was far too early to be up after a night like they had. "I'm coming," he growled. The pounding on the door blessedly stopped, but he found that his head still throbbed with pain.<p>

He threw the door open and frowned. There before him stood the blighted assassin, who was grinning like a fool. "Go away," he growled. He tried to shut the door in the other elf's face, but the assassin was too quick and managed to worm his way in.

"Sorry, my friend, no can do. Isabela has already left, and I have nothing left to do but bug the two of you," was Zevran's reply. The assassin was entirely too cheerful for this time of day. He casually strolled over to the bed and took a seat, avoiding the lump in the middle that was Hawke. "And can I say that I am mildly disappointed how I can't leave the two of you alone together? I need to introduce you both to the concept of lying low. Starting an impromptu drinking contest and later getting into a brawl is not what you want to do if you're trying to avoid attracting attention."

Fenris' fist ached to plant itself squarely in Zevran's mouth. He refrained only because he didn't feel up to moving that quickly at the moment. Fenris closed the door and shuffled over where he could continue to glare at the other elf while leaning against the wall for support.

Meanwhile the assassin's babbling had woken up the mageling for she sat up with a groan. "Shut up, Zev," she told him. Her eyes were half shut, and she rubbed her head gingerly at the temples. Fenris imagined that her agony must equal his own given that she had never drunk as much as she did last night.

"You're looking lovely today too, little one." The assassin continued to prove that he liked to play with fire. He was fortunate that Hawke was in no condition to launch a fireball at him much less aim one properly. "In addition to the disappointment I feel, I must confess I'm a bit put out as well. Why can't the two of you be as much fun as you were last night when you're around me?" he asked.

"Maybe that's because you're no fun," Hawke grumbled. She settled back down in bed. "Can you go away now so I can die in peace?"

"Like I told your grumpy friend, I can't do that. We have much to do, or have you forgotten that I have a job you're supposed to be helping me with?" The assassin looked Hawke over with a careful eye. "It appears you are hung over, little one. Can't you cure yourself of that?"

"No. Too risky. Might scramble my brains trying to work a healing spell on my head right now," Hawke explained.

"That is too bad. That would be a useful skill. I guess I will have to try to cure the two of you the old fashioned way."

"Would that involve your being quiet? Because if so, I'm all for that," said Hawke.

"I'll second that," Fenris agreed.

Zevran chuckled at the two of them. "If only things were that easy. Alas there is only one way I know of to treat a hangover and I doubt either of you will like it."

"Considering that I don't like you all that much at the moment, that would be no surprise," Hawke grumbled. Fenris started to nod his head to agree with her but stopped. It hurt too much to nod. "So go on. What is your folk cure?"

"Did I call it a cure? My apologies, I must have misspoken. The best way to treat a hangover is to savor the pain, to relish it like a fine wine. That way you know what you're getting yourself into the next time you feel like drinking yourself under the table."

"I always suspected you were a closet sadist," Fenris mumbled. The other elf only beamed at him and acted as though the comment was meant as a compliment. Fenris silently swore that if the other elf ever suffered a hangover around him, then he would try his hardest to put on the loudest, more cheerfully annoying persona possible just to get back at the fool. And if he couldn't manage that—because it was after all contrary to his nature—then he would convince Hawke to do that for him.

Neither Fenris nor Hawke had much energy to resist the assassin's urgings for them to get up. They collected their packs, and the assassin regained possession over the coin purse he had entrusted to Fenris the night before. Then Zevran herded the two of them back to the dining room, where he led them to a table in the deepest recesses of the room. It was blessedly dark around the table, and if Fenris closed his eyes, he found that his head didn't hurt quite so much.

He opened his eyes in alarm when he heard the assassin ordering them water along with their breakfast. "Is it safe to drink the water here?" he asked bluntly.

"While some may advocate more of what you had last night as a cure, I do not. Experience has taught me water is the best thing to drink," Zevran claimed. "And as for it being safe, people in the city know to put out barrels to collect rain water for drinking. You'd have to desperate to try anything else. Not that there aren't those who try but they generally do not last long here," he finished a touch darkly.

Surprisingly enough, Fenris started to feel more like himself after a large breakfast with copious helpings of water. What helped even more was that the mageling recovered enough that she was able to work sufficient healing magic on both of them so that the pounding in Fenris' head settled into a dull roar. Zevran kept an eye out to make sure it was safe while Hawke was casting. It was only after that Zevran began to talk—and by talk, Fenris meant complain—in earnest about how little they had learned from Isabela.

"At least last night wasn't a complete loss," he told them with a sigh. "It was good being with Isabela again, but I wish she could have told me more than just no ships are being hired to transport slaves by sea. What am I supposed to make of such information?"

"Hmm…it probably means the Imperium's war with the Qunari has heated up again. If Qunari dreadnaughts are patrolling the slavers' usual sea passages, then that would explain why there aren't the usual jobs for raiders and their ships," Fenris pointed out.

Zevran gave him a look. "That's nice," he said. "Does anyone have anything useful to contribute to this conversation?"

"Hey! I thought Fenris' comment was very insightful," Hawke protested.

"Of course you would."

Hawke ignored the interruption. "Besides I thought you'd be grateful to hear Isabela's news. It means your recruits are most likely still in the country rather than locked up in a ship's hold halfway to Tevinter by now. What would you have done then?"

That was a very good point Hawke brought up. Fenris hadn't thought of it before. He flicked his gaze over to the assassin, curious about what the other elf would say to explain his behavior.

"Eh that much is true. But when I said this job of mine has two parts—"

"You lied?" Hawke asked softly. Her eyes were downcast, and Fenris realized that she was disappointed in the other elf.

"I didn't lie so much as not tell you the entire truth," Zevran said quickly. "There are two parts to the job. Killing Brax is mandatory. The Crows want to make an example of him. Rescuing the recruits, on the other hand, is optional. The Crows would prefer to have them returned and there is a nice bonus for me if I manage to do it, but they would not have me eliminated from the order if I failed in the endeavor."

"I see," Hawke said.

"Not that that matters much now as I am at a dead end once more…though perhaps I should think of a better phrase to use. Dead sounds so final. I had hoped that if I found the recruits, I would find Brax or at least information leading to the man, but all my efforts have left me empty handed." The assassin spread out his hands before him to emphasize his words. "If either of you have any bright ideas, now would be the time to share them."

"In most countries, slave hunters have hideouts up and down the coast and around major cities where they can stash their captives. We should check those out," Fenris said.

"And do you know where these hideouts are?" Zevran asked. Fenris was forced to admit that he didn't. "I didn't think so. They wouldn't be very good hideouts if they were easy to find."

"You really haven't had much luck, have you?" Hawke noted.

"No, I haven't. But I'm the sort who likes to look on the bright side. If I haven't had any luck so far, all that means is that things are bound to start looking up for me sooner rather than later."

"Your logic fails to impress me," Hawke murmured. "If I were you, I wouldn't wait for my luck to change. I'd make my own luck. I'd ask around, find someone who recently lost someone to slave hunters, and go from there." A frown marred her features. "Although in a city as big as this, I wouldn't know where to start asking."

Fenris and Zevran exchanged a glance. "Slave hunters generally target the poorest of the poor," Fenris stated.

"Indeed. It is no different in Antiva. The poor and the unfortunate make the easiest targets. And as for the easiest targets of all…well it looks like we'll be paying a visit to the alienage. Wonderful. No trip to Antiva City would be complete without a guided tour of the resident elven slums."

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><p>Fenris hated the alienage almost as soon as he set foot in it.<p>

The alienage was not all that far from the docks. As Zev, being the sadistic bastard that he was, had woken them up at dawn, they arrived as the last wave of elves was leaving their homes to get to their jobs. The strange trio was the subject of many stares. Though Fenris couldn't make out the words being whispered about them, he had a fair idea of what their gist was.

Humans were not welcomed here.

Out of habit, Fenris drew closer to Hawke so that he could shield her from pointed looks and unkind words. The aura of oppression reigned heavy in the alienage and was nigh tangible. It seemed to Fenris that while the elves of the alienage were nominally free, they were still captives, shackled by the meager roles offered to them. An elf in this city was lucky to find a job as a servant or a day laborer. Poverty was common here, and one could see its ravages on every corner. The alienage was also a favorite hunting ground for all sorts of predators; indeed that was the chief reason why their group went to the alienage in the first place.

"Perhaps we should have split up before coming here," Zevran noted as he took in the glances they were receiving. His gaze sidled over to Hawke. "Not all of us fit in here."

"Oh really? I wonder who that could be?" Hawke replied airily. "It must be you, Zev. It's not every day that one runs into a person as dashing as you."

For all her bravado, Fenris could tell that the mageling was ill at ease with all the stares she was receiving. Apostates who attracted undue attention didn't remain out of the circle for long after all. Maybe it would have been better to keep her away and let the assassin hunt for information by himself. But then Fenris didn't exactly trust Zevran to handle things on his own, not only because the other elf had proved himself to be exceptionally skilled at bending the truth but because he had also proven to be incompetent when it came to tracking leads down on slavers.

"Ah yes, it must be me." Zevran preened under Hawke's words for a moment before his demeanor turned serious. "I hate to say this but you stick out like a sore thumb, little one. I don't think anyone will be willing to help us so long as you are around. Maybe you and Fenris can look at the alienage's market while I ask around?" the assassin suggested.

"Don't write me off so quickly. There are some of my kind around here, and you'll never be able to find them without me."

"Your kind?" Zevran repeated. "I'm afraid I do not follow you, little one."

Fenris checked a sigh. The mageling was obviously speaking of finding elven mages. While Fenris didn't really want to deal with other mages, he knew they were a favorite target of slave hunters. The mageling was smart to suggest that they start their search there.

While Fenris had been resigning himself to facing more mages, Zevran had kept busy interrogating Hawke about her last statement. The mageling wound up rolling her eyes and spelling out for the other elf what she had meant. Afterwards he asked, "You mean to say that you can tell who is a mage just by looking at them?"

"No, not by looking but rather how they feel," Hawke told him. "It's hard to explain. I can sort of tell if someone is a mage because of their connection with the Fade. A trained mage can hide that connection to some extent but an untrained mage cannot. That's part of what makes it easy for templars to hunt them down."

True to her word, Hawke was able to point out several elven mages to them. However none of them were willing to talk. At best the group received a pointed statement that the lady should look elsewhere if she needed more servants while at worst they faced open threats. Fenris fretted more and more with each failure. They were already conspicuous here because of Hawke. If they remained in the alienage with Hawke chasing after mages, it was only a matter of time before someone set the templars on them.

"This isn't working," Fenris grumbled to his companions after yet another dead end.

"No, it's not," Zevran agreed. He glanced over at Hawke. "I think we need to rethink our strategy here. You have been immensely useful, little one, but you're also making yourself a target. It would be better, I think, for us to leave for now. We can visit the market and then find another inn for the evening. I will come back later alone and see if anyone we spoke to earlier is feeling…more talkative."

Fenris snorted. "You're being optimistic," he noted. "What will you do if any of them decide to throw fireballs first and ask questions later?"

"Dodge, most likely. That's usually the best plan. It's certainly a better option than just standing still and taking a direct hit," Zevran replied smoothly. "And you have to be optimistic in my line of business. Besides it is not as though I would be returning as I am now. I know a fair amount about disguises. I wouldn't be any good at what I do if I didn't."

"Are you any good at what you do, Zev? You keep claiming that you are, but from what I've seen of your results so far, you don't impress me." Hawke smiled slyly at the elf as she poked fun at him.

"That's being kind," Fenris stated. The assassin had a point though. Hawke was only going to get herself into more trouble, most likely of the templar sort, if she remained here in the alienage. "However, as much as I hate to do so, I have to agree with the assassin in this instance," he said.

That earned him sharp glances from both Hawke and Zevran. "Are you feeling all right?" Hawke asked. She stood on her toes and laid a hand against his forehead. Startled at the sudden contact, he stepped back, causing the mageling to stumble slightly but she caught herself before she fell. "Well you don't appear to be running a fever. That's good, I guess. Still it's most unlike you to agree with Zevran about anything."

"There's a first time for everything," said Zevran. "Besides maybe a hangover is all our friend needed to come to his senses and realize that he should listen more to the dashing and charming elf in our party."

Hawke quirked up an eyebrow and shook her head. "Dashing _and _charming? Think highly of yourself much?"

"Someone here has to. I know you two don't," was the assassin's cheeky reply.

"As I've said before, you've not given us much reason to be impressed. I'll agree that you do cut a dashing figure but the only evidence of your charm so far was your persuading your way into your lady pirate's pants—wait, she wasn't wearing any. That doesn't count. We've no evidence of your charm at all."

Fenris knew that if he let the mageling and the assassin continue in this vein, then they would be at it all day. There were drawbacks to traveling with companions so enamored with their wit. "We're not making any progress here, and eventually some enterprising soul is going to tip off the templars just to be rid of Hawke," he said brusquely, putting an ending to the other two's verbal sparring. "While I am unsure just how much information the assassin will be able to dig up on his own, that's much less risky than what we're doing now." Fenris shrugged his shoulders. "If it doesn't work, we'll just come up with another plan later." He didn't add that this plan really wasn't much of one; that would only lead to both his companions raising their voices in protest and he didn't feel up to dealing with that right now.

"You know, I think he's trying to agree with both of us in his own awkward sort of way. When did Fenris become the diplomatic one, Zev?" The mageling took a step closer towards Zevran, turning towards him so that the two of them looked like conspirators.

"I know. It's most unlike him, isn't it? Are you certain that he didn't hit his head against anything last night?"

Great. Now the two of them were joining forces against him. Zevran's plan of going away and coming back along sounded more appealing than ever. At least that way, he could separate the mageling and the assassin so they couldn't unleash their combined wit to make fun of him. The two of them working together was enough to drive any man insane, and if he was being honest, Fenris would admit that his grasp on sanity wasn't all that strong to begin with. He didn't know how much more he could take of them. "If the two of you are done," he said stiffly, "then I believe it is time for us to leave." He spun on his heel and walked away in the opposite direction, not looking back to see if the others were following.

"You do realize that if you are trying to leave then you're heading the wrong way, right?" the assassin called out to him.

Fenris stopped dead in his tracks. He closed his eyes and counted silently. Of course, he had picked the wrong direction. Nothing was going his way today. Looking back, he should have tossed the assassin out of their room at the inn and then have proceeded to have slept for the rest of the day. However it was too late to fix things now, and so he would just have to deal with the other elf until it was time to send Zevran on his merry way back to the alienage.

Of course they would have to leave the alienage first. Opening his eyes, Fenris turned back around. "Lead the way then," he said, inclining a hand towards the assassin.

"Me? Lead? But why? When you were doing so well. If I remember the layout of this area of town—and believe me, I do—you were about to take us into a particularly nasty back alley." The assassin was now smirking at him. Fenris was seriously contemplating taking his mageling and running far away from Antiva after getting rid of the assassin that evening. At the moment he felt that dealing with the other elf wasn't worth any amount of coin.

"That's enough, Zev," Hawke told the assassin. She crossed over to stand by Fenris' side. She lightly brushed her fingers against his hand. His eyes flicked down to meet hers, and he could read a silent but sincere apology in them. "Come on. I believe you said we would head over to the market. It must be bigger than the one in the last town we were in," she said, directing her attention at the assassin again.

The blond elf stopped and stared at her, his jaw dropping open in shock. "Little one, comparing the market of Antiva City to the last one we were in…." Zevran's words trailed off while he shook his head. "I'm sorry. There is no comparison. You shall see when we get there. Follow me."

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> Thanks to everyone who reviewed. It makes me smiile to know all of you are enjoying this fic.


	12. Chapter 12

**Promises: Chapter Twelve  
><strong>

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

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><p>Zevran led them through the city, sticking to the streets when possible like before. They did wind up on a gondola once, but the smell didn't bother Fenris as much as it had yesterday. Perhaps he was becoming acclimated to it. He wasn't sure that was a good thing.<p>

Despite the size of the city, it took them less than an hour to reach their destination. As Zevran had claimed, there was no comparison between this market and the others they had seen in Antiva. The only marketplace that Fenris had ever seen that was as big and varied as Antiva City's was that of Minrathous. From the way Hawke's eyes were wide and how she kept turning her head to look around, she looked quite overwhelmed. Idly he wondered how Denerim's market compared to this one.

"From your expression, I gather that Denerim's market isn't as big as this one?" he asked, looking at her sideways.

Hawke shook her head, but any answer she was going to give was lost when the assassin audibly choked at Fenris' question. "Excuse me? You're trying to compare Denerim and Antiva City? Antiva City is one of the finest cities in the world, rivaled only by Val Royeaux. Denerim is full of mud and wet, smelly dogs and—ow!" Zevran stopped in his rant to glare at the mageling, who had viciously stepped on his foot with all her weight. "Maker's cock, that hurt!"

"Good." Hawke smirked at Zevran. "Denerim may indeed be full of mud and dogs, but trust me, Fenris, our mabari are smarter than any assassin you've ever met."

"I find that easy to believe. I am surprised though that you'd insult the mabari of your homeland by comparing their intelligence to that of certain assassins. That's damning them with faint praise from what I understand."

"All right. That's enough. You've made your point, little one." Zevran held up his hands in a sign of defeat. "I won't insult your homeland again."

"Oh Zev, don't make promises you can't keep," Hawke said.

"I was going to add at least not while you're in stomping distance." The blond elf grinned cheekily at the mageling. She sighed and shook her head a little before returning his smile.

"You're incorrigible," she told him.

"That's part of my charm," he returned.

"Hmm…I seem to recall establishing that you have no charm not all that long ago. Forgetful much?"

"If our friend here remembered every insult lobbed his way, I doubt he'd have any room in that small mind of his for anything else," Fenris said. It felt good to needle the assassin after the way he had baited Fenris earlier in the alienage.

However Fenris was disappointed to find that his remark only caused the assassin's grin to widen. "Oh ho! You called me your friend! That's a first. I shall have to make note of this in my diary tonight."

"You keep a diary?" Hawke said slowly. "You don't seem the type."

"Of course, I have a diary. How else am I to keep track of my many sins so that I can ask forgiveness for?" Zevran replied. "But enough of this. Let us look around, my friends. The day is still young, and we should see all that Antiva City has to offer."

They spent the better part of the day in the market, taking in the sights and sounds of that busy place. Hawke was especially enamored of a magic shop that Zevran directed them to. "There is one little shop in Denerim that sells magic amulets and staves," she said, pausing at the door to scan the entire store. "But it's nothing like this," she added before bounding off to the nearest bookshelf.

"Are you sure it's safe for us to be here?" Fenris asked the other elf as the mageling perused the shelves. "Surely templars must keep track of who comes and goes here."

"Actually they don't. The proprietor of this shop pays very well to make sure that none of his customers are bothered…well paying customers that is. That is why I took us here rather than to one of the other shops. I do have a modicum of sense, you know."

Fenris was hardly reassured but the mageling was frantically waving for him to come over and so he had no time to press the assassin further about the safety of the shop. "What is it?" he asked Hawke, stopping before her.

"Could you get me that book?" she asked. She pointed up at the second to highest shelf.

Fenris looked up. The mageling could be pointing to any number of books. "Which one do you want?"

"The one about force magic," she replied.

He looked back to the shelf and stifled a groan. That description did little to aid him as the markings on the spines held no meaning for him. "I don't see it," he told her.

"It's the brown book right next to the one about ice spells. On second thought, get me that one too. Please," she added with a smile.

"I'm not seeing that one either." From the corner of his eye, Fenris could see the mageling opening her mouth and he just knew she was going to tell him more titles to look for, which of course wouldn't help him. So rather than risk her discovering his secret, he took a step back so that he was directly behind her. He then placed his hands around her waist and gently lifted her up. His mageling was light, much lighter than his sword was, and he mentally berated himself for not doing this sooner. "There. Now you can reach them yourself," he told her.

"I guess this is quicker," she said. Hawke nimbly removed two books from the shelf, and she began flipping through them before Fenris had even set her down.

"Find something you like, little one?" asked Zevran as he approached them.

Hawke nodded her head yes vigorously. "Oh Maker yes. Especially this book about force magic. Father told me about it, of course, but he didn't know much about the specifics seeing as it wasn't his chosen specialty." She closed the book with a sigh. "It's an interesting read, but I'm afraid it's far too expensive."

"It can't be that much." The assassin reached out to take the book from Hawke. He gawked as he looked at the price. "I take that back. But if you want it—"

"No thank you, Zevran," she said with a firm shake of her head. "I don't need the book. I appreciate the offer, but you've spent enough on me already for my robes and all."

The assassin attempted to wave Hawke's concerns aside, but Hawke wasn't having it. Her smile remained pasted on her face as she steadfastly refused his offer to buy the tome. Finally Zevran gave up. He was no match for the mageling when it came to being stubborn.

They left the magic shop empty-handed thanks to Hawke's insistence and traveled on to visit the weapons and armor merchants. Zevran found a pair of new daggers that he purchased while Fenris settled for getting the edge of his sword sharpened once more. "Wouldn't a new sword suit you better?" asked the assassin as they all waited for the blacksmith to finish with the sword.

"I'm used to the weight and heft of this one," Fenris replied with a shrug of his shoulders. Zevran accepted his explanation with no further comment, and the trio moved on to the grocery part of the marketplace to restock their provisions for the road ahead. By the time they were finished, it was late afternoon and the crowds in the marketplace were beginning to disperse.

That was also the cue for them to find a place for the evening. Zevran took them to a small inn that was some distance away. As they entered, Fenris noted with approval that this place was much cleaner than the tavern they had stayed in the night before. Zevran, catching notice of Fenris' appraising glance, said with a chuckle, "Of course this place is better. I have standards unlike Isabela."

"I wonder what that says about you then," Hawke teased him.

"Nothing good, I'm sure." The assassin went up to the innkeeper in order to get them a room. There was some fast talking on Zevran's part as he bargained over the room and rate. Fenris ignored that but Hawke paid rapt attention to every word out of the assassin's mouth and she appeared to be taking mental notes. However even Fenris was impressed when Zevran turned back to them with a grin and announced not only had he got them an entire suite for the evening but he had also arranged for a hot dinner to be served to them in their rooms as well.

"You're almost as good at bargaining as Hawke is," Fenris told the other elf as they mounted the stairs to their suite.

"Is that another compliment I hear? Two in one day when I've naught heard one before? Will wonders never cease?" Zevran quipped.

Hawke rolled her eyes. "You are in a good mood, Zev. Personally I think Fenris doesn't go far enough. You're much better at negotiating than I am. I would have stopped at getting the suite for the price that you did."

"Ah! And that would have been your mistake, little one. Always ask for more. With some finesse of course, but that goes without saying," Zevran replied. He threw open the door to their suite with a flourish. "And here we are. Quite luxurious when compared to the hole in the wall last night, is it not?"

Fenris had seen finer suites in his days as Danarius' bodyguard, but this one was bright and clean. There were three adjoining rooms. The first room with its tables and chairs was a cross between a reception area and a sitting room. Further in, there was a large, spacious room that came with a single bed and was undoubtedly reserved for the leader of the group. A corner was cordoned off from it with a curtain in order to provide a space for washing up. Finally there was a smaller room in the back of the suite that had servants' quarters written all over it for it had three tiny beds crammed inside.

The trio had just set their packs down when a knock sounded on the door. "That must be our dinner," Hawke said, and she sprung up to answer it. The assassin was quick to wave the mageling down and instead answered the door himself. Zevran directed the serving girl carrying the meal to place it on the table in front of Hawke, and he fussed liberally over how it was arranged. Once everything was to his liking, he dismissed the serving girl after handing her a few bits for her trouble.

Zevran turned and fixed Hawke with a stern glare after the serving girl had departed. "Either Fenris or I will answer the door," he told her. "The story I told the innkeeper was that you are a lady who is traveling with her most loyal elven servants. No lady would ever open the door when she has someone available to do her bidding."

"And here I thought you would say that Fenris and I were your servants," Hawke said.

Fenris rolled his eyes at that. Was his mageling truly that naïve? While slavery was only allowed in Tevinter, the lot of elves was poor throughout the rest of Thedas. An elf who had servants, much less human servants, was unheard of and so would attract much attention indeed.

"Sometimes I forget that you're from the middle of nowhere," Zevran said half to himself and half to Hawke. He ignored the pointed look Hawke shot his way. "That story would never work, little one. Elves don't have servants; rather they are servants," he explained. "This is true no matter where you go."

"No, it's not," Hawke argued. "Considering that Fenris and I are sort of working for you, you could make an argument that I am your servant."

Zevran threw back his head and let out a short laugh. "Ha! You have me there, little one. You're quick as always. That being said, I would like to note that you would make an awful servant. In addition to your noticeable lack of domestic skills, you have a most distressing tendency to talk back. I do not think you would last a day as a servant anywhere."

Fenris didn't like this thread of conversation at all. If he hadn't rescued Hawke from the slavers when he did, it was all too clear to his mind just what use would have been found for her. His mageling was really too lovely for her own good—and for his own peace of mind. But he had rescued Hawke and that was one of the best things he had ever done, and so there was no point in lingering over what could have been his mageling's fate.

"I hope the two of you don't mind my eating while you continue to jabber away," he said. He snagged a chair and pulled it to the table so he could sit next to Hawke. Taking a plate, he piled it high with food although he avoided the eel dish. Hawke and Zevran followed his lead although the assassin proved he had poor taste by taking a generous serving of the eel. The three of them tucked in, not having eaten since breakfast, and the generous spread before them was demolished in short order.

Zevran put the dishes back on the tray and carried it over to the door in order to set it outside for the serving girl to pick up later. He then trotted over to their packs and started digging through one of them.

"What are you doing now?" Hawke asked, sitting up in interest.

"Looking for my supplies," the assassin replied absently. Finding what he was looking for, he stood up and walked over to the main room. "Wait right here," he commanded them. "And don't be surprised at how I look when I come out."

When Zevran returned, his hair was as dark as Hawke's. While his eyes remained unchanged, his posture was completely different. He slumped while he had stood up straight before, and somehow the elf looked as though he had aged ten years. The grin he gave them though was classic Zevran. "So what do you think? Am I good or am I good?" he asked with a wink.

"I'll let Hawke answer that," Fenris said. "I'm afraid that if I say anything remotely positive that you might collapse from shock."

"Yes, I might," Zevran agreed. He turned to Hawke. The mageling sighed once before agreeing with the assassin that he looked completely different from how he had been before. His pride sufficiently stoked the assassin left them with a word of warning. "No going out for either of you. Just stay here tonight. And please, by the Maker, no more trying to drink each other under the table. Words cannot describe how pathetic the two of you were this morning even though all you had to drink was some of the weakest ale in all of Antiva."

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> A great big thanks to everyone kind enough to review the last chapter. Seriously you guys are all so sweet.


	13. Chapter 13

**Promises: Chapter Thirteen  
><strong>

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

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><p>"I can't wait until he has a hangover," Fenris muttered as the door closed behind the assassin.<p>

"You and me both. I've been plotting my revenge since he woke me up so rudely this morning," Hawke chipped in. "Savor the pain? That quite possibly is the worst advice ever. And I've heard a lot of bad advice since meeting Zev."

"Most of it from him, I'd wager." Fenris was happy to hear that his mageling shared his desire for revenge. They discussed the matter further with Hawke taking great delight at the idea of feeding Zevran his own words. Fenris had rather thought that was a good idea himself, but it warmed his heart to hear it endorse so fervently by his mageling.

However they could only speak so long of revenge especially as they didn't know if they would ever get a chance to enact it. They each took a bath after that topic had dwindled away, but once they were clean there wasn't much else to do for the evening. Fenris appreciated why the assassin wanted them to stay put. Between the tavern last night and the alienage earlier today, they had made enough of a spectacle to be memorable. That was unfortunate because keeping a low profile was the best way to keep the templars far away from Hawke.

Still it was blasted dull to sit around and not do anything. Having nothing better to do, Fenris laid out his armor and did his best to mend its tears. Hawke, who kept looking at him ever since he had finished with his bath, had immediately scrambled over to his side and offered her help. Fenris blanched. The thought of what the mageling could do to his only set of armor all in the name of helping…he quickly told her while he appreciated her offer, he was more than capable of fixing the minor damage to his armor alone.

Hawke huffed in disappointment but didn't move. She continued to sit and watch as he worked. Fenris found it unnerving to try and concentrate when someone was watching your every move. Finally he turned to the mageling and said bluntly, "Will you stop that?"

She blinked in confusion. "Stop what? I haven't touched anything—just as you asked," she said sulkily.

"I meant stop staring at me. It's distracting," he clarified.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "It's just that…there really isn't anything else to do. There isn't much in the way of entertainment here, in case you failed to notice. I sort of wish that I had got that book from that shop. At least I could read then."

"If you're bored, why don't you call it a night and try to get some sleep?" Fenris suggested half-heartedly. He just knew that his mageling was going to push aside such a suggestion for it was entirely too reasonable idea for her to follow.

"It's too early to sleep, and what's more I'm still wound up from today. I'm not sleepy at all," Hawke replied.

Fenris mentally congratulated for predicting his mageling's reaction correctly yet again. There were times when he thought he knew her better than she knew herself.

"Besides I would like to be awake for whenever Zevran gets back. Do you think he'll find anything?"

Fenris shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know," he said. "The assassin has yet to prove himself to be skillful outside of battle or bargaining with merchants."

"So you think he won't have much luck?"

"As far as I can tell, the assassin has no luck. But recently…there have been times when Zevran suddenly seemed bitter or harsh…I wonder if there is more to him than just what we see," Fenris said, wondering if his mageling had picked up on that.

"I noticed that too," Hawke admitted. "Sometimes I think he really hates being a Crow, which is ridiculous I know because he's always bragging about how he's the best assassin ever." She bit her lower lip. "You know, back when we first met Zevran and you said that he was not telling us the truth…I think you were right. Today proved it when he all but admitted that he had conveniently forgot to tell us about not having to rescue the recruits. I'm sorry I didn't believe you."

Hearing those words out of his mageling's mouth didn't feel as good as Fenris thought it would, not when Hawke looked so sad. He reached out a hesitant hand and patted her awkwardly on the shoulders. "It's all right, Hawke," he said slowly. "You tend to…believe the best of people. There's nothing wrong with that." Well except for the fact that it made her an easy target, he added mentally, but that's why she had him around to look out for her.

"I suppose," she said, her face turned away from him. Then she suddenly leaped at him, her momentum almost sending him toppling as her arms embraced him. He rallied valiantly to maintain his balance as his mageling rested her head upon his shoulder. "You're so sweet, Fenris. You try so hard to project this image of being a grumpy and fierce warrior when really you're the nicest person I know."

The tips of Fenris' ears burned with embarrassment. "I am not a nice person," he told her.

"Yes you are," she replied fervently. "And you're kind and good…if you weren't you wouldn't worry half as much as you do about me. You just hide that all very well, even from yourself. But you're better than you think you are, and I won't ever let you forget that. I'll remind you every day if I have to."

Shame twisted Fenris' features into something dark, and his lips curled into a bitter grin even as his arms tightened around his mageling out of their own accord. Hawke would never learn. There she went again, thinking the best of people when she should know better. He was not a good man; he had too much hatred in him to ever be that. This he knew, and this he resented more than anything else. In another life—one in which he hadn't been a slave, one in which lyrium and blood magic hadn't been engraved into his skin and soul—maybe he could have lived up to his mageling's expectations.

He dreaded the day when Hawke would realize that he wasn't the man she thought he was. It was inevitable. As trusting as the mageling was, eventually she would be unable to deny the fact that he was hateful and bitter and cruel. His heart lurched as he thought about what her reaction would be. She would try to flee, to leave him behind but he—he didn't think that he would have the strength to let her go.

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><p>The assassin didn't return until the small hours of the morning. Hawke had long given up trying to wait up for Zevran and retired to sleep in the smallest room. Fenris ostensibly joined her, taking the bed nearest the door so he could keep watch. He drifted in and out of a light sleep that was broken readily when he heard the assassin enter the suite.<p>

Fenris got up quietly. He paused and turned to look at Hawke. The mageling was fast asleep with a smile on her lips, one that found its echo on Fenris' face. He hoped her dream was a good one.

He padded over to the first room on silent feet. "Well?" he asked the assassin, one eyebrow raised up in question.

"It was a good night," was Zevran's reply. "A very good night indeed. But it is late, my friend, and I need my sleep...well after I have a bath, that is. I will tell you what I found out tomorrow morning over breakfast. That way I don't have to repeat myself."

Fenris nodded his head. He was curious to hear what the assassin had learned, but it could wait until the morn. Besides if he and Hawke woke up before Zevran—which was likely given that the other elf had been out all night—the mageling wouldn't be able to pester him with questions. Well with as many questions. She would still try but would give up once he told her that he didn't know anything.

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><p>It was the smell of fresh baked bread that woke him the next morning. He sat up in bed and groggily took note of his surroundings. His brow furrowed as he saw that the bed nearest the wall, the one that Hawke had slept in, was empty.<p>

All sleep erased from his countenance, he threw his sheet aside. Muttering curses under his breath, he stalked through the larger room, where the assassin still snoozed, and into entrance room. There Hawke stood, already dressed in her green robes, smiling charmingly at the serving girl as she delivered breakfast to them.

So much for the mageling not opening the door. Her inability to follow simple instructions was going to lead him to an early grave. He stood there, scowling, as Hawke thanked the girl for bringing the food before ushering her out.

"If I didn't know better, I would say that you woke up with another hangover," Hawke said cheerfully once the door was closed.

Fenris rolled his eyes at that remark.

"And don't do that, please. Sometimes I swear I can hear it when you roll your eyes at me," the mageling went on. She turned around to face him. She gave him the once over and then sighed. "You didn't sleep well last night, did you? You look positively exhausted."

Fenris shrugged his shoulders. "I'm a light sleeper naturally, and the assassin woke me when he came bumbling in."

"While I have no doubt Zev woke you, I doubt that he made all that noise. You stayed up late because you were waiting for him, long after you insisted I go to sleep." Hawke made a clucking noise with her tongue. "This is why I shouldn't bother listening to your advice. You don't follow it yourself. Anyway Zev is still sleeping so why don't you try to nap a little as well?"

Fenris gave another shrug. "I'm awake now," he said. "I don't think I can get back to sleep." It then occurred to him what his mageling had been doing. He glowered at her. "And enough of you trying to distract me. Didn't Zevran say that you should let one of us open the door?"

"Well he did, but then I said and you agreed that Zev hands out a lot of bad advice. So I thought I'd ignore it." She gave him a cheeky grin, one that faded when she saw how upset he was. "Fenris. Don't worry so. I remember everything Zev said, about him telling the innkeeper that you two are my servants. I did wait to see if one of you would get up, but I couldn't just let the girl go on knocking at the door."

Fenris crossed his arms, unappeased at her explanation. "It didn't occur to you to wake me up?"

"The thought crossed my mind," she replied. "But you looked so peaceful…I couldn't bear to wake you. So I let her in myself and made certain to complain about how lazy the two of you are. That's in keeping with the story Zev had concocted for us, I think. Now if you're done lecturing me, how about we eat breakfast?"

He would only be wasting his breath to continue in the same vein. He took a seat across from her at the table. She passed him a plate, and together they enjoyed a light breakfast. Hawke had already eaten her fill when Zevran put in an appearance.

"Decided to start without me?" he asked, cocking up an eyebrow. He immediately began helping himself to some of the fresh fruit, not even bothering to take a plate. "I'd be hurt…except for the fact that I think we need to start thinking about getting out of town."

Fenris and Hawke exchanged a look. That didn't sound good.

"All right, spill. Just what exactly did you get up to last night?" Hawke asked.

"Nothing except what I said I would. I asked around the alienage and found out that there had been slavers there recently. Some hirelings of Brax even."

"And how do you know that? Do slavers go around and conveniently announce who they're working for when they're hunting? Or is there perhaps some sort of uniform involved?" was Hawke's next inquiry.

"No, unfortunately. It would be much easier to track them if they did have a uniform. But I know that these particular slave hunters worked for Brax because they were bragging how their boss was so good that he even got away with taking fledgling Crows," Zevran replied. "Long story short, they were headed south and east towards Rialto."

"So if we hurry you think we might catch them?" It seemed like a long shot to Fenris, but then the assassin was most likely getting desperate.

"Maybe, maybe not. We will never know if we do not try. I did manage to procure maps of the coast between here and there that lay out common smugglers' hideouts. We can check those along the way for clues too."

"Zevran," Hawke said calmly. She leaned towards the assassin with a friendly smile on her face. Said smile, however, didn't quite reach her eyes. "What is it that you're not telling us?"

Fenris was willing to bet he already knew how the assassin had got into trouble. "You stole the maps from someone last night who is now out to get you."

"Absolutely not," the assassin denied.

Fenris just gave him a look. He didn't buy that claim one bit.

"I stole them the night before from Isabela. Rumor has it that she's a little peeved with me."

"How peeved?" Hawke's tone brooked no nonsense.

"She might have her entire crew turned out scouring the city for me."

"So we have an entire ship of raiders out for your blood?" Fenris couldn't believe how much trouble the assassin had managed to land himself in. Zevran was worse than the mageling.

"Well Zev always did claim that he was a wanted man. Now we know what he meant," Hawke quipped, injecting a bit of levity into the conversation.

"I don't think she's out for my life, if that's what you're thinking. She wants get her maps back as they were her only copy and perhaps also have a…slightly forceful conversation with me."

"A forceful conversation? Is that what you think? Frankly my money is on her wanting to castrate you," said Hawke.

The assassin's face turned white at that thought. "You are a cruel, cruel woman," Zevran muttered. "But I'm afraid there's more…"

Fenris threw up his arms in disgust. "Of course there's more. There's always more. What else have you done?" He got up from the table and started pacing back and forth across the room.

"It's not what I've done but what I overheard. The templars were scouting the alienage last night, and to get them to go away, someone gave them our description." Zevran paused. "Several someones actually. I had a chat with them afterwards but the damage was done. So if you two are finished, it's time that we pack up and leave."

Fenris was herding Hawke to the back room before Zevran had finished making that suggestion. They were done packing up in a matter of minutes and headed back out to the front room. Fenris frowned as he followed Hawke. Though her robes blended into the shadows readily, they were still too obvious. It was too bad they didn't have any spare armor they could throw her in.

Zevran was waiting for them, his pack in hand as he stuffed away the last of the bread into it. The three of them headed out of the suite with the assassin in the lead. They had just reached the stairs, however, when they heard a commotion erupting down below.

"One second," Zevran said. He popped his head over the railing to peer down and over at the inn's entrance. "Maker's balls," he swore. "Those are Isabela's men. Looks like we have to take the back way out."

"This smells like a trap. What if the back way is covered as well?" Fenris asked.

"Then we go to plan b. Don't bother asking me what it is. I haven't thought of it yet. But enough of this talking. The sooner we start running, the more likely we are to get away."

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> Thanks and hugs to all my reviewers. You all are the best! :D


	14. Chapter 14

**Promises: Chapter Fourteen  
><strong>

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

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><p>As Fenris had suspected, there had been three of Isabela's men loitering around the back entrance of the inn. The assassin, however, wound up turning that to their advantage. Using one of the little flasks he always kept on his person, he stunned the men but then led the party back into the inn to exit via a window on the ground floor. "A little misdirection never hurt," he explained.<p>

From there, he took them on a route that led them through some of the busiest parts of the city. There was a certain sort of anonymity to be found within the crowds. Both the templars and Isabela would also expect them to be trying to hide rather than staying out in the open. That strategy seemed to serve them well…at least until they got to the city gates.

"Andraste's tits," Zev swore, stopping dead in his tracks. Parked in front of the gates leading out the city were several teams of templars, all of whom were examining travelers as they passed. "All this for one lousy rumor about an apostate?" he muttered under his breath.

"It might be more than that," Hawke said. She shifted back and forth uneasily. "Remember how I told you that when we found you in the sewers, Fenris and I had been running away from the templars? Well…we kind of killed several of those templars. Not their entire group, and so the survivors might have put out an alert on us."

The look Zevran gave her was full of grief. "And you did not see fit to mention this to me before?" he asked. The assassin shook his head. "It would have been nice to know before plotting our escape route. Is there anything else you've hiding from me that I should know about?" he asked.

Fenris snorted. That was the pot calling the kettle black. He could ask the same of the assassin, but he held his peace. Still Fenris was mildly surprised; evidently Hawke hadn't told the assassin everything that there was to know about them. Right now, however, they needed to keep their focus, something that both the assassin and the mageling were bad at. The most important thing was keeping Hawke away from the templars. If her guess was correct and the templars were specifically searching for her, then who knew what they had planned for Hawke if they caught her. "That's enough. We need to get out of here," he said.

"Tell me something I don't know," Zevran replied. "No really, please do. If there's anything else that I should know that might keep me from leading us into another trap, then now's the time to say something."

"We might want to avoid the sewers. That's how we got away last time," Hawke volunteered.

"So when you said right before you met me, you meant that literally. That's good to know, I guess, but I wasn't thinking of taking us through the sewers anyway. That would be a very unpleasant experience." Zevran shuddered violently. Fenris was curious for a moment about how bad it could be in Antiva City's sewers, but considering how bad it was above ground, he didn't really want to find out.

"For now, let's get out of here," said Zevran. "Before they catch sight of us." He looked left and then right before darting down the nearest side alley, with Fenris and Hawke hot on his heels. Unfortunately their retreat attracted attention of the wrong kind. Two templars broke off from their group and steadily pushed their way through the crowd to the side alley.

"Zev," Hawke whined, a sense of urgency to her voice as Zevran led them from one cramped footpath to the next. "I think we're being followed." Though Hawke had a pinched, nervous look to her, she didn't seem terrified at the mere thought of templars the way she had been weeks before. Fenris' heart swelled with pride; his mageling had come a long way since then. She could be counted on to participate in their defense whereas before fear would have frozen her.

"Oh, you think so? Well let me put that issue to rest for you. There is no need to worry about whether we're being followed. I assure you that we most certainly are. Being followed, that is," was the assassin's flippant reply. "That's one of the problems with running away. People tend to assume you're doing so for the wrong reasons. Of course, they'd be right in this instance but it would still be nice to be given the benefit of the doubt once in a while."

"Not helping here," Hawke muttered.

"Keep your head down. Hopefully we'll lose them," Fenris told her.

"Good advice. You might want to consider following that yourself, seeing how it's your head of hair that sticks out the most," Zevran said. "Try throwing something over it. I should have done something about that this morning before we left, but we were in a rush. Next time we have to run for our lives, however, I'll be certain to make it less…bright."

Fenris flushed. He hadn't thought about it. He hung his head, not happy at being such a liability. If Hawke was caught because of him—

"I like his hair, thank you very much," Hawke told the assassin firmly. "You just wish—"

Zevran held up a hand. "Please. I don't need to hear about how much you enjoy playing with his hair, I really don't. Although that makes me think… we are being followed by templars, right?"

Fenris rolled his eyes. Surely the other elf could hear the templars bearing down on them. "Are you deaf?" he asked. "Can't you hear the clink and clank of their armor?"

"Yes, yes, I can," Zevran replied. "I just thought of a place we can hide, someplace where they'll never find us." With that, he turned down into another side street in a rush without warning, leaving Fenris and Hawke to follow after him. Fenris easily made the same maneuver, but he had to reach out a hand to support Hawke when she stumbled.

Fenris had to steady Hawke several times over as Zevran took them at a dizzying pace through a series of small streets, never bothering to tell them in advance when he was about to make another sharp turn. Fenris could appreciate the fact that the assassin was trying to lose their tail and so didn't want to hand out any clues as to where they were headed. Hawke was out of breath and sweating with the effort to keep up though. Frowning, he was about to insist that they slow down when Hawke reached out to squeeze his hand, her eyes briefly meeting his to let him know that she was fine.

Zevran finally slowed down after about half an hour later. "And here we are," he said grandly as they stepped out of one side alley into a main thoroughfare. "My favorite part of town." The assassin tilted his head as he considered Hawke. "However, we do not want people to get the wrong ideas, particularly about you, little one." Smiling he took hold of Hawke's hand, pulling her along as he ambled forward.

Fenris paused so he could take stock of his surroundings. Though it was morning and the sun was high in the sky, this section of Antiva City was full of shadows. There was also a peculiar tang in the air, one that almost overrode the normal stench of the city. Fenris' eyes widened as he caught sight of some of the embellishments decorating the buildings of this area as well as the scantily-clad women that seemed to be on almost every corner.

The blighted assassin had taken them straight to the heart of the red light district of Antiva City. That was why he had taken hold of Hawke so that there would be no prying questions as to her availability. Fenris swore under his breath and then quickened his pace to catch up with the other two. His stomach dropped as he saw that they were already one the steps of one of the more garish establishments.

"What is this place called?" Hawke asked the assassin as she craned her neck up at an awkward angle to look at the establishment's name. "I'm afraid that my knowledge of Antivan is limited at best."

Zevran flushed, which to Fenris' mind, was not a good sign. "Um…it doesn't translate well. Suffice it to say, it is a play upon a particular type of sandwich popularized here. Now come on. Let's get inside before our pursuers catch up." He pushed the door open and stepped in, hanging on to Hawke all along. Fenris was left with no choice but to do the same.

"It seems that you are known here," Hawke remarked as not a few of the brothel's occupants greeted Zevran enthusiastically. "Well known, in fact."

"Ah yes, well I do try to spend a little time here whenever I'm in the city," Zevran agreed. He continued to herd Hawke further in to the brothel and away from the entrance.

"We don't have time for this," Fenris interrupted them. "Besides didn't you have your needs seen to the other night by your pirate friend? Who is now out for your blood, in case you've forgotten."

"No, I've not forgotten," Zevran replied without looking back at the other elf. He stopped once he reached a shadowed corner at the very end of the room. "No one will bother us here. This is the perfect place to hide."

Hawke whirled around so she could look at the assassin. "You've taken us to a brothel to hide?" she asked. The confusion that was rampant in her voice was shared by Fenris.

"Yes, of course. A whorehouse is the perfect place to hide anyone or anything," the assassin asserted, puffing his chest out.

"So you'd hide an apostate in a brothel?" Hawke questioned.

Zevran gestured towards her. "Obviously."

"How about a prince? I'd imagine a prince would stick out here like a sore thumb," said Hawke.

The assassin chuckled. "Ah little one, you are so innocent. You'd be surprised at how easily princes take to whorehouses on the whole. For example I've heard stories about the third prince of Starkhaven that would curdle…but that is neither here nor there. To answer your question, a brothel is also the perfect place to hide a prince. Most would enjoy their stay, and you'd have a hard time prying a select few out."

Fenris rolled his eyes. Perhaps the assassin had taken a blow to the head last evening while he was out and about for he was being especially ridiculous today. "How about a whore?" asked Fenris. "Would you hide a whore in a whorehouse?"

"Of course! Who would find her amongst all the other whores?" Zevran wagged his finger. "And if she's very lucky, she might even make a bit of coin."

"How about a cow?" Hawke was clearly grasping at straws here. "Surely you wouldn't—"

"Hide a cow in a whorehouse?" Zevran finished for her. "You are speaking of the farm animal, yes?" At Hawke's nod, Zevran shrugged his shoulders. "I don't see why not. Farm animals are not my thing," he added with a slight shudder, "but when you get right down to it, every man is entitled to his own kinks. Who am I to judge another man's perversions, especially when I have so many of my own?"

"So a brothel is also the perfect place to hide an irritated lady raider?" Hawke asked, a slight smirk on her face.

"Yes, yes, haven't we been through—wait! You mean Isabela's here?" Zevran gave a visible start. He twisted his neck back and forth. "Shit! Where do you see her?"

"I don't," Hawke replied. "I just was wondering if you'd hide her here too, that's all. Though you should be more careful, Zev. You jumped so high you almost hit the ceiling," she said with a sly smile.

"Ha, ha. Very funny. Our grumpy friend's sense of humor has rubbed off on you. It is _not_ an improvement," said Zevran.

"I'm a better influence than you are," Fenris told the other elf.

"I'm not so sure about that," the assassin said. Then suddenly there was a commotion at the entrance of the brothel as the pair of templars who had been chasing them barged in.

Now it was Hawke's turn to jump. She tugged at the assassin's arm and pulled his head towards hers. "Zev! I thought you said they wouldn't follow us in here," she whispered frantically into his ear.

"Did I?" The assassin looked like a cat who had got into the cream.

"Yes, you did," Fenris said firmly. He was not pleased with this turn of events. Though Hawke remained outwardly calm, he knew that she must be on the verge of panic. There was no where for them to run from the templars here.

"Actually, I'm afraid that you're both wrong. I never said that they wouldn't follow us here. I just said that they would never find us. Watch," said Zevran. He splayed his hand out towards the templars. "Watch and learn."

The small group turned their attention back to the templars, who both still stood near the doorway. They weren't the only ones looking at the templars. Indeed it seemed like every eye in the brothel was cast upon the two armored men.

Then one whore, bolder than the rest, sashayed forward on eager heels. The sultry brunette laid one hand on the older templar's arm and bent to whisper something in his ear. From the shock expression on the templar's face, it must have been something lewd. His lack of response, however, was taken as encouragement by the prostitute, whose hand trailed first across the templar's chest before going markedly lower.

Just like that, the spell of silence that had been cast in the brothel was broken. The templars found themselves drowning in eager women and not a few men. The older of the pair shoved them all away from him and stalked towards the entrance, commanding the other one to follow. The younger templar cast a longing look back before following his superior's lead, much to the disappointment of most of the brothel.

"See? What did I tell you? The only thing the whores here love more than a man in uniform is a man whose uniform happens to be heavy armor," Zevran chuckled. "Not that I can blame them. Wearing heavy plate builds all sorts of muscles."

Fenris saw little to be amused by. "So they didn't find us here, I'll give you that," he said. "I doubt the templars are going to give up that easily though. I bet they're waiting outside for us to make our exit."

"Maybe. I doubt they'll be able to stay here long before they're propositioned again though. Although it looks like the younger of the pair was willing. My money is on him coming back later," Zevran said.

Fenris sighed. It was difficult to keep the assassin focused on anything…well anything that wasn't related to sex. "If you think that a templar is returning later, then we had best not be here when he does," he pointed out.

"Oh he won't be back for us. I think he liked the—" Zevran caught the pointed glare that was being given to him by the other elf and stopped. "Fine, fine. You are no fun, my friend. It does not matter if the templars are watching the front door. We are not leaving that way. This particular establishment has a secret tunnel that leads out of the city for its clients to use," he explained. "And I know the madam of this brothel well. She is an old friend of mine, and I am certain she will let us use that passage."

Fenris snorted. Considering how well Zevran's contacts had gone with his other old friends, he didn't have the same optimism as the assassin. Meanwhile Hawke had wandered a few feet off to examine a nearby table. "Zev," she called out. "What's this for?" she asked, pointing to one of the objects laid out on the table.

The assassin eagerly leapt upon the opportunity to get away from the conversation he was having with Fenris, and he trotted over to see what she was pointing at. Zevran's eyes lit up with glee as he recognized the object. "That is…well you see you're supposed to strap it—hmm, maybe this is something better demonstrated than explained, yes?" He cast a sideways glance over at the mageling. "If you like, I can get us a room and show you how—"

Fenris' face flushed red, first with embarrassment when he realized what the mageling was pointing to but then with anger—anger at the blighted assassin's sheer unmitigated gall to take advantage of Hawke's naivety like that. His rage was palpable, and the assassin was quick to take notice. "Of course you can come too, my friend," Zevran said in a rush, holding up his hands in an appeasing gesture. "The more the merrier and all."

But Fenris was not in a mood to sit back and listen to such an offer. He stepped forward, all but shoving the assassin away from Hawke. "We need to leave now," he said. Zevran looked as though he was about to protest but wisely kept his mouth shut upon the fierce scowl Fenris sent his way. With a sigh, the assassin left them to find the brothel's madam and arrange for their passage out. "And as for you," Fenris said, turning his full attention to his mageling. "Do. Not. Touch. Anything."


	15. Chapter 15

**Promises: Chapter Fifteen  
><strong>

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

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><p>Fenris felt a sense of relief as they exited the tunnel they had taken from the brothel to leave Antiva City. It was great to be out of the city. He took a deep breath of fresh air and relished how it smell fresh and clean, of wind and trees, rather than the damp stench he had grown acclimated to in the few days they had spent in the city. The dirt road was soft and springy under his feet, a welcome difference from the harsh bricks and cobblestones which had left him feel bruised and battered every night.<p>

As they set up camp for the evening, Fenris reflected that he was even grateful to be sleeping on bedrolls again. The bed last night had been too soft for his comfort. As a slave, he had grown used to sleeping on the floor and in chairs and even on his feet. When given the chance, he now slept on a bed but he did it more because he felt he ought to, as more evidence that he was no longer merely a piece of chattel, rather than because he found it more comfortable. It was one of the reasons why he insisted that his mageling take the bed when there was only one to be had; that way both of them would be able to sleep. If he took the bed and she the floor, neither of them would get much rest.

Once they had finished making camp, Hawke started up fire and informed the other two in that bossy voice of hers that she would be preparing their dinner. Fenris knew better than to argue with his mageling when her chin was set with so much determination. Though Zevran grimaced, he didn't try to convince Hawke otherwise and instead spread out his purloined maps some distance away from the fire the mageling conjured.

Fenris didn't know what to do with himself as it felt wrong just to relax while his companions were busy. His eyes drifted over to Hawke, who was rummaging through their packs. "Do you need some help?" he offered.

"No, I'm good," Hawke replied, not bothering to look in his direction. "I'm just going to make us a basic stew." She popped her head out of the pack she had been digging through and frowned at the vegetables she had gathered by the pot. "I wish we had some turnips. Maybe I should use radishes instead. They're close enough to turnips I think," she mumbled under her breath.

Fenris counted it as a victory that he managed to repress a whimper at that news. At best, Hawke's stews were bland, tasteless mush. At worst, they resembled the mud that her homeland was so famous for. He had noticed that her cooking had improved over time, and he sincerely hoped that trend would continue.

"Why don't you help Zev with his maps?" Hawke suggested. "I think he's trying to figure out where we should start looking, and knowing Zev, he needs all the good advice he can get."

That much was true. The assassin did need someone with a grasp of logic to help him. Besides helping Zevran go over his maps was better than standing around and watching Hawke butcher dinner beyond all hope of redemption. He paced over to where the assassin had carefully laid out the maps, one over the other, so that they formed one cohesive unit. Fenris stood over the assassin and frowned. Something had become apparent to him with just a single glance.

"These really are smugglers' maps. There's more detail regarding reefs and currents than anything else," he noted.

"No surprise there as I got them off a raider," Zevran agreed readily. "But these maps also show where there are caves along the coast. See?" The assassin pointed to several spots on the maps that had small half circles drawn on them. "I think the bigger the mark, the bigger the cave," the assassin went on. "So to me it makes sense that we ignore the small caves as there would be less room to hold living cargo there."

"You're assuming that these maps are drawn to scale," Fenris replied. "That's a rather large assumption to make, especially as I suspect the raider who drew these was somewhat drunk if the ale stains are anything to go by."

"And so the trend continues of you thinking that I never have any good ideas. Aside from that time in the alienage," Zevran complained.

"And I was still recovering from a nasty hangover so that doesn't count," Fenris said. There was a faint upwards quirk to his lips. He would never say as much out loud, but it was almost fun to needle the assassin.

"There's your famous sense of humor again. At least we are out of earshot of the little one. Maker knows you've been enough of a bad influence on her as it is," Zevran said.

Fenris snorted in disbelief. While he was well aware of his faults, if there was anyone who was a bad influence on the mageling, it was the assassin. "And you're not?" he asked point blank.

Zevran looked up at Fenris confused. "I'm not what?" Then his eyes widened. "Oh! You mean am I a bad influence? Of course I am. I'm an assassin and a rather lewd one to boot. But at least I am able to admit that to the world at large," he said. "So, my friend, if you don't think we should try checking out what appears to be larger caves, what do you recommend?"

"You said the slavers were headed south and east, correct?"

"Yes. Towards Rialto. Which is here." Zevran stabbed the map with his finger. "It's another port city, though not as grand as Antiva City."

Fenris frowned. That route was headed away from Tevinter rather than towards it. "So they're taking their captives away from the Imperium?" he questioned.

"Yes, it is strange, isn't it? It would make sense, perhaps, if they had decided to take the sea route starting from Rialto rather than Antiva City. Not that I know about such things but I could see that there may be reasons for that, like maybe you'll have better wind. But if you're traveling by land…well I can't see why you'd do that."

"Are there more caves and hideouts on the coast aside from what's on the map?" Fenris asked.

"Without a doubt. I don't think there is a soul alive who knows of all the hidden spots along the coast of Antiva," the assassin answered promptly.

"Then if I were to hazard a guess, it would be that they're taking their captives to some central spot. Most likely a secure holding area—something fortified against other slave hunters—that they can use to stow their captives until they're able to arrange for transportation," Fenris said.

"Is that so?" Zevran's mood noticeably lightened. "So that means if we find this holding ground, we should find the recruits, no?"

"And Brax. He would be there to keep a close eye on his investments," Fenris added. "The only problem is that I doubt that location is on this map. It would be a closely guarded secret, known only to Brax and his most trusted lieutenants."

"Of course. That's my luck. It's too much to ask for this fortified slaver hideout—which we have no evidence for mind you though I do believe your reasoning is sound—to be on Isabela's maps and clearly labeled as such."

"As Hawke said earlier, we need to make our own luck. Slave hunters are always on the prowl for more victims. We follow their trail to the next city, searching the caves along our route, and dig up what clues we can," said Fenris.

Zevran pulled a face. "It's a plan, I'll give you that, my friend. However, it doesn't seem like it will lead us to Brax anytime soon."

"If you have any bright ideas, I'm willing to listen. It's your job and your life after all. That being said, your previous bright ideas didn't exactly pan out."

"Your sympathy for my plight overwhelms me, my friend." Zevran frowned at the maps. His forehead creased as he mulled his options. "Alas I have no other ideas, and as you so kindly brought to my attention, my plans so far have turned out to be less than stunning successes. We'll try doing things your way."

Zevran continued to study the maps, claiming that he needed to read them further in order plot out the route they would take. There wasn't much help Fenris could give the assassin when it came to reading anything, and so he wandered back over to where Hawke was preparing their dinner. She looked up at him as he approached and asked if he could find some bread. He agreed but not after raising an eyebrow at her unsubtle hint that she didn't need his help. Usually his mageling was less obvious than that.

The packs were a mess, no doubt due to the way Hawke had scrounged through them. By the time Fenris found the bread, Hawke was scooping her stew into bowls for them. "Here," she said, holding a bowl out to him. "Let's trade."

It took all of Fenris' willpower not to cringe. He gritted his teeth and accepted the bowl from his mageling. She broke off a piece of bread and handed it to him to use as a spoon. Fenris blew on the stew, partly to cool it down and partly to delay eating it, while Hawke set the bread down near the pot and got her own portion ready. She took a bite and then looked at him with narrowed eyes. It seemed that Fenris couldn't delay eating her stew any longer.

He summoned his courage and took a bite. Thankfully tonight's dinner was one of Hawke's better efforts. Though he couldn't taste a thing and nothing had any texture whatsoever, the stew didn't immediately sour his stomach or make his tongue curl up in disgust.

"Well?" she asked him. She focused a steely-eyed stare upon him, and her lifted chin challenged him to say something negative.

"It's not bad," he said cautiously. Hawke broke out into a large grin, and Fenris relaxed. He had learned, thanks to the assassin, that Hawke was rather sensitive over her lack of domestic skills. Fenris did wonder about that. From what Hawke had told him, she had basically grown up on a farm. He would have thought that a farmer's daughter would have been taught how to cook and sew and all the things a farm girl needed to know to one day become a farmer's wife.

"You're thinking about something. Rather hard from the way your forehead is wrinkled. What is it?" she prodded him.

Fenris winced. He hadn't thought that she could read his expressions so easily. He usually did his best to compose his face into a blank slate, but then again, it seemed that he relaxed his guard around Hawke. A brief thought struck him that maybe she would do the same. "I was wondering something about you," he admitted.

"Oh? What?"

He wasn't about to ask without securing a promise from her first. "It might be a sensitive subject. If I ask, will you promise not to get upset with me?" He still remembered how Hawke had reacted when Zevran had teased her about her inability to mend her robes.

"I don't suppose I can get a hint of what you want to ask first? No? Oh well, it was worth a try," she said. She cast her eyes down at the ground before raising them to meet his. "All right. Go ahead and ask. Just don't…don't get upset with me if I decide not to answer."

"Fair enough. I remember back when we were traveling together how you told me all about growing up on a farm in a small village in Ferelden," he began.

"So you were listening? Sometimes I couldn't tell." The mageling clapped her hands together and grinned up at him.

Fenris ignored that comment and forged on ahead before he lost his courage. "Because of this, I can't help but wonder why you…well you said the only chore you had assigned to you was cooking and that you didn't do that often. I thought that a farmer's daughter would have…done more."

"I did do more. Lots more when it came to cleaning. But when it came to other things—womanly skills as my mother liked to call them—there wasn't much time for her to show me anything, especially as I had no aptitude for such things. I…you see my…my gift for magic, which is how my father puts it, manifested early and strong. I had to learn control and quickly. So ever since I was little, I spent most of my time learning about magic from my father. Of course as I grew older, I improved and I didn't need to spend as much time learning but by then it was clear that the only things I could do reliably was cooking, dusting, and scrubbing floors."

She gave an aggrieved sigh. "Not that I particularly like the other two. I much prefer to cook. Especially scrubbing floors. Having to be on my knees all day…no thank you."

Fenris gulped audibly and turned his head to one side, ignoring the sudden image he got of Hawke on her hands and knees. He cast about for something suitable to say in response, but his brain refused to cooperate in such matters and what was worse, his body was beginning to betray him as well. He was thankfully saved by Zevran, of all people, who chose that moment to arrive for dinner.

"I see that you have finished making your stew." Zevran eyed the concoction in the pot with little enthusiasm.

"Yes. Fenris likes it," Hawke declared. She wrinkled her nose at the assassin.

"Does he?" The assassin's eyes cut over to Fenris then back to Hawke. He shrugged his shoulders. "Well after that striking endorsement, I find that I am ready to eat."

Hawke turned back to the pot and got a portion ready for Zevran. He accepted the bowl with good humor. With a smile on his face, he took a bite.

The smile fell off.

Zevran turned to Fenris and said, "You, my friend, misled me. You severely understated just how—"

"Just how what?" Hawke crossed her arms and shifted her hips, all but daring Zevran to complete that thought.

The assassin looked at Hawke and then at Fenris. Seeing no hope coming from that quarter, he turned his attention back to Hawke. "Never mind," he said. "You are a very acceptable cook in Ferelden, I wager."

"The way you say that makes it sound like an insult."

"Does it? I need to work on giving compliments it seems. Thank you for cooking dinner, Hawke," the assassin finished gamely.

His thanks were enough for Hawke to move on from the subject of her cooking. It didn't escape Fenris' notice, however, that Zevran barely finished half of his stew even though he took several more portions of bread. He couldn't fault the assassin for that. Hawke's cooking took some getting used to—even now it turned his stomach to recall the fish she had cooked for him so long ago—but much like the mageling herself, it seemed to have grown on him. Or at least grown on him enough that he was able to finish his bowl with nary a grimace.

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> Thanks to all of you kind enough to leave a review. :D


	16. Chapter 16

**Promises: Chapter Sixteen**

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine but Bioware's.

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><p>Zevran wound up plotting out a course that would take them to Rialto while crossing as many of the caves on the maps as possible. The first cave they explored had nothing. It was obvious that no one had visited it for quite some time. The second cave they reached was inaccessible because of a cave in while the third cave was as empty as the first.<p>

The fourth cave, however, was a different story.

"Well, well, what have we here?" Zevran asked. Craning his neck, Fenris looked over at where the assassin was pointing. He blinked. While there was no signs of life, hidden under a ledge was a sizeable treasure chest.

The chest was not well hidden in the slightest. "That's too obvious," Fenris said. "It's most likely trapped or locked."

"Or both," Zevran agreed. "However, that's what I'm here for. To take care of such difficulties. Stand back while I work my brand of magic."

Fenris rolled his eyes but kept his distance while Hawke did the same. Neither of them wanted to be near the assassin in case he failed miserably and set off a trap. Zevran turned out to be as skilled as he claimed to be. He defused the trap set before the chest without a single misstep and then picked the lock on the chest with ease. The assassin was pleased with himself and sported a large grin.

That grin only grew when Zevran opened the chest and peered inside. "Finally! It looks like my luck has changed," he announced.

That sounded like hyperbole to Fenris' ears. "Don't tell me that you've found a map pointing out the slavers' main hideout," he said. If the assassin had found such a map, Fenris was inclined to think that it was a fake. No master slaver would ever be foolish enough to draw a map to his main holding ground and then leave it unguarded.

"Don't be ridiculous, my friend. Of course not. But have we have here is truly sublime. Here, take a look."

Fenris looked suspiciously at the other elf. He wouldn't put it past Zevran to try and pull one over on him. He cautiously walked forward to peer at the contents of the chest.

What was inside was truly a treasure. The chest was filled to the brim with the bottles of wine, brandy, whisky, and more. Fenris felt a smile tug at his lips as he caught sight of not a few bottles of the finest wines out of Tevinter.

Hawke had followed behind him and was regarding the chest with considerably less enthusiasm. "Lovely. We have enough liquor here to be drunk for days. I can't see how this helps us at all."

Fenris exchanged a glance with Zevran. The mageling obviously didn't understand what a rare find this was, and one of them had to bring this to her attention. The assassin gestured at Fenris, indicating that he was leaving this task to the elven warrior. Fenris silently cursed the other elf's cowardice in his head. His mageling wasn't that scary.

"It doesn't help us directly in our quest," he agreed with Hawke. "However drinking some decent wine will make for a nice change over the cheap slop we usually get."

Hawke looked at the stash then back at Fenris and narrowed her eyes. "We can't carry everything," she noted.

"We can carry enough." Mentally Fenris calculated how many bottles of wine he could easily carry. He would have to take care to pack them properly as it would be such a waste if they broke.

"Besides isn't it like stealing?" she asked.

"Every bottle of this stash has already been pilfered. We're stealing from thieves," Fenris pointed out in return.

Hawke sighed. "The two of you are going to carry away as many bottles as you can no matter what I say, right?" She shook her head and then threw up her hands. "Men," she muttered.

"Be reasonable, little one. It's not as though we won't share with you," Zevran put in. "You might be surprised. We might find a practical use for this liquor. Having a bottle of aged Antivan brandy makes for a great bribe."

"Oh. So you mean you're not intending to drink all of that yourself." Hawke shot Zevran a knowing look.

He laughed bashfully. "Well…the thought had crossed my mind. However it is probably too much for me to finish," he admitted. He rubbed the back of his head with one hand.

"You might be able to finish all you can carry more quickly than you think," Fenris noted.

"What? You do not plan to help me? I saw how your eyes lit up when you saw the cache," Zevran stated.

"Fenris' tastes tend more towards wine," Hawke told the assassin. "And if you breathe one word of the pun I can see you thinking of, I'm going to send a fireball your way," she added.

"It wasn't that bad."

"It was probably worse," Fenris said. He cocked his head slightly as he remembered Zevran showing them their path on the map when they first started out this morning. "You thought that this particular cave would be large because of its size on the map, right?"

"Yes." Zevran glanced around at their cramped surroundings and frowned. He hung his head. "Yet this cave seems to be the smallest we've been in yet. So much for that theory."

Hawke rolled her eyes. "You nicked the maps from Isabela, right? The larger marks on the map probably meant that she has something important hidden there more likely. Take this cache for example." She glanced over at Zevran. "You know, she's only going to want to hurt you more when she gets back here and finds that you've made off with her personal stash. It must have taken some time to collect all these."

"I am not so worried about that. She has bad taste when it comes to alcohol so I doubt this was her personal stash. More likely she was going to smuggle these bottles to a collector later. The tariffs that Orlesians levy on foreign liquor is nothing short of highway robbery," Zevran said.

"And I trust you've committed enough highway robbery that you should know it when you see it," Fenris remarked. Zevran artfully protested but to no avail. Meanwhile Fenris turned over Hawke's theory regarding the map in his head. "If Hawke is right about the larger marks indicating places where your raider friend has hidden treasure—"

"Then perhaps we can find more stashes like this one just by investigating those larger marks," Zevran finished Fenris' thought.

Fenris nodded his head. "It would also explain all the ale stains on those maps as well," he added.

"Good point. You are nothing short of brilliant, my friend. I must confess that I didn't find the thought of trying to cart off enough brandy to last me this entire job appealing," Zevran told him.

"Maker's breath, you're not serious, are you?" Hawke shook her head at the elves. "Don't answer that. I can see that you are. You know, Zev, when Isabela finds you, she's not going to be content just to cut off your balls. She's going to feed them to you too."

Zevran held up a hand. "There are two problems with that statement, little one. First off, you said when Isabela finds me rather than if. Trust me, I know how to hide. Second, when did you get to be so vulgar? I can only conclude that our friend here has been a bad influence on you in more ways than one."

"Sorry to burst your bubble, Zev, but I'm afraid that you're far more of a bad influence than Fenris," the mageling replied. She sighed. "Oh well. There's no use trying to convince you of anything resembling common sense. The two of you had best start choosing what you want to take." She fixed them with a steely glare. "Although I do hope you know better than to try and convince me to carry any of those heavy bottles for you."

Hawke stalked outside, leaving the two elves alone. Fenris wasn't sure if he liked how Hawke had lumped him in with Zevran with that last statement of hers. Something was bothering her, but he didn't know what or even how to ask her what was wrong.

For now, he would have to concentrate on the problem immediately before him. And that involved not only picking out the best vintages of wine, but packing them carefully enough that they didn't break during their journey.

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><p>While Hawke's cheerful mood reappeared after they left the cave and its amazing cache behind them, over the next few days, it became more and more apparent that something was weighing her down. Fenris was genuinely puzzled as to what set off her moods. It wasn't the wine. She hadn't complained at all when they had stumbled over a second stash but just rolled her eyes before getting out of the elves' way. Fenris also didn't think that Hawke was upset over their lack of progress in finding Brax because they had made progress. One of the caves they explored had housed a small group of slavers, whom they promptly disposed of, along with invoices that Zevran and Hawke combed over for hints as to the master slaver's location.<p>

Oddly enough Hawke was at her grumpiest when it was time to make camp. Of course, a grumpy Hawke was nothing like a grumpy Fenris. She didn't snap at every smart comment the assassin made or brood incessantly. Rather she kept apart from the others at dinner, preferring to stare off at the sunset instead of hanging around Fenris.

Fenris found that he rather missed the usual Hawke and her non-stop babbling. He felt her absence most keenly; he had grown used to having his mageling always by his side. He wanted her back so badly that it took him by surprise. He just didn't know how to get the old Hawke back or even how to get her to tell him what was bothering her.

When Hawke once again wandered away from the elves after dinner, Fenris decided enough was enough. Although making conversation wasn't his strong point, he could at least end the separation that had grown between them. He followed Hawke, who had settled down by a tree near the river, and took a seat beside her. He remained silent for he didn't know what to say and was content to be by her once more.

It was Hawke, as usual, who started talking first. "You don't have to watch over me, you know," she told him. She sounded annoyed. "I can take care of myself."

He raised an eyebrow at her tone. "I know you can. I just thought…maybe you could use the company?"

Hawke twisted so that she was facing him. "Are you feeling quite all right?" she asked.

"Yes." Fenris felt rather insulted at her question. "I could ask the same of you," he added without thinking. Fenris winced as he realized just what he had said. He didn't want to start a fight between him and his mageling, but now he was worried that his careless words had done exactly that.

The mageling sniffed and then turned her head away from him. "I'm fine," she said through gritted teeth.

"No, you're not." Fenris was tired of this charade. His mageling was not fine, and she was silly to think that she could try and fool him. "You haven't been yourself lately. I…if I somehow offended you the other day…well then I apologize," he finished awkwardly. He cast his eyes downwards as a flush broke out across his face. He felt like a fool, apologizing without knowing why he needed to apologize. If it made Hawke feel better, however, it would be worth it.

"Oh Fenris, you have nothing to apologize for," Hawke told him. Her voice had a breathless quality to it, and when he glanced at her, he could see her blinking back tears. Her anguish struck him hard. Without thinking, he moved to close the distance between them, winding up so close to her that her eyelashes practically touched his as he gazed into her eyes.

"What is wrong?" he asked her. "And don't tell me it's nothing. There have been times when you've been…off these past few days. It's been happening ever since we left that gave with all that wine and brandy and—"

"It's nothing you've done," she reassured him. "It's just me being silly, is all. I'll get over it. Just give me some time."

"If it upsets you this much, it can't be nothing," he insisted.

To his complete and utter horror, Hawke broke out sobbing. There was nothing Fenris could do but sit and watch as his mageling shook with tears. He patted her hesitantly on the shoulder, hoping that would somehow help her storm of grief to pass. He didn't know how long he sat there and listened t her cry, just that it was far too long.

Finally her tears slowed down before vanishing all together. "I'm sorry," Hawke said. "I'm being such a silly girl right now but when you said that…it sounded just like something Father once said to Mother and I—"

Hawke's eyes filled with water again, and Fenris rushed to say something, anything, to stop their fall. "You must miss your parents, your whole family," he said in a low voice. "It's not silly for you to feel that way. The way you were torn away from them…it has been very hard for you, hasn't it? I'm sorry."

Alas his words did not have their intended affect, and Hawke started crying again while Fenris looked on. Hawke felt the loss of her family keenly. He hated seeing her so upset, but what he hated more was being unable to comfort her. All he could offer her was his presence though that was hardly enough.

"I'm sorry too," Hawke said when her tears subsided to a slow drip. "I know I've been a pain these last few days but when you and Zevran were in that cave…it reminded me of me and Carver. We fought like cats and dogs most of the time, but every once in awhile we'd agreed on something, and Father always said that when we did, it meant trouble for everyone else around us. The way you two were grinning and making plans…I…I—"

"You could try to find them," Fenris suggested, sensing another torrent of tears approaching. "We're headed in a southerly direction towards Ferelden. After we help Zevran here, perhaps we'll have enough coin to catch a ship to Denerim."

That drew a small laugh out of Hawke. "You? Offering to go on a ship? And for a mage?" A rueful smile appeared on her face. "But no. I appreciate the offer, but I wouldn't know where to start looking. Father must have moved our family by now. He was leaning towards moving anyway, ever since he caught that last batch of templars sniffing around, but he wouldn't suffer our family to live anyplace vulnerable to both templars and slavers. The only thing I know about my family's whereabouts is that they're not in Lothering any more." Hawke's face fell as she finished.

"You could still start there? Surely someone must have seen the direction your family headed off in at the very least," said Fenris.

"That's likely to be misdirection on my father's part," she told him wanly.

Fenris frowned. "You're being more pessimistic than I've ever seen you," he said. He took in Hawke's sad face, her slumped shoulders, and her shaking hands. A stray thought occurred to him as he recalled one of the first things Hawke ever said to him. "You…you feel abandoned, don't you? Because your father never came after you."

Hawke shook her head frantically side to side. "No, no. Disappointed, perhaps, but I understand why. Father has Mother and the twins to think of. He had to make sure they're safe, not just chase after a silly girl who couldn't fight off a band of slavers."

Though Hawke protested mightily, her denials sounded weak to Fenris' ear. While Hawke may have accepted the reasons why her father had not attempted to rescue her on a intellectual level, it had to still rankle her that her family had so easily left her behind, especially after the mageling had covered her sister's escape. "Knowing you, I'm certain you gave them a good fight. It must have taken more than a few slavers to bring you down," he noted.

She wrinkled her nose. "I didn't fight as well as I should have. Obviously. If I had, I wouldn't have got caught," she said. She looked off in the distance as sadness and regret crept into her eyes. "I…sometimes I can't help but wonder…what if I could have held them off for a few more minutes. Would that have been enough time? Would Father and Carver have come to help me? Or would everything still be the same, with my family out there somewhere together while I'm left all alone?"

"But you're not alone. You have me," he said without thinking. Fenris bit his tongue immediately after those words left his lips, a bit shocked that he could think that way about a mage, much less express such thoughts out loud. Any lingering doubts he had, however, were erased when he caught sight of the first real smile gracing Hawke's face in days.

"That has to be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me," she told him. She beamed up at him, and Fenris' breath caught in his throat at the sight. There was nothing more lovely than his mageling when she was truly happy about something.

Hawke continued talking. "The most unbelievable thing about you, Fenris, isn't that you can glow in the dark or literally rip a man's heart out of his chest. It's that despite how kind and sweet you are, you persist in believing that you're an awful person when you're really not. It's just as well that I won't ever leave your side. You need someone by you to remind you how good you are."

His mageling was in for a rude awakening eventually. Fenris knew full well that he wasn't half the man she thought he was. Still a fairly significant part of him thrilled to the idea that she was just as committed as him when it came to remaining together.


	17. Chapter 17

**Promises: Chapter Seventeen  
><strong>

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

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><p>A couple weeks of weeks went by, and the small group continued to track slavers up and down the Antivan coast. On several occasions, they ran into bands of slave hunters, and they wound up freeing many captives after putting the slavers out of commission. However, despite the luck they had, they were still no closer to their ultimate goal. Brax was too cunning a master slaver to leave clues regarding his location, and little by little, the lack of results was beginning to wear on their small group.<p>

Fenris was perennially grumpy. While he remained committed to finding Brax and removing him as a threat, he longed to leave Antiva and put more distance between him and Danarius. The mere sound of the assassin's voice was starting to grate on his nerves. Fenris didn't find Hawke half as annoying but that was to be expected as he liked her. If the foolish assassin ever frustrated Fenris enough to make him give up and flee the country, the elven warrior would make certain to drag his mageling along.

Zevran was also noticeably on edge about the whole matter. Though for the most part, the assassin continued to be lively and optimistic, his bitter side showed through more each day. There were times when the assassin was exceedingly cynical in his assessments, and Fenris couldn't help but think that they were starting to see Zevran's true face. The glimpses that Fenris got of Zevran's real personality were enough to convince Fenris that he and Hawke shouldn't spend any more time with him than strictly necessary.

As for Hawke, while she remained cheerful after her heart-to-heart with Fenris, it was still obvious that the mageling was quickly losing her patience with the whole matter. The weather might have had something to do with that. Late spring had turned into early summer, and with the change of seasons came a change of weather. The days were warmer and more humid. While the slightly muggy days hardly bothered Fenris or Zevran, Hawke was ill equipped to deal with it, being from Ferelden. As a consequence she tended to whine about how hot it was more and more. Now was a good example of that. "One of these days, I am going to melt," she declared.

"Is that so? I don't suppose there is anything you can do to speed up the process," asked the assassin from his spot on the ground where he was once again examining his maps. "It's awfully hard to concentrate when you're always harping on about the weather," he added.

Hawke glowered at the blond elf. "I swear we're going around in circles," she said snarkily.

"Ah, so you do have a sense of direction. Because we have made a circuit of sorts," the assassin replied. "We started off heading to Rialto but we're now headed back towards Antiva City."

Hawke paled. "Um…you don't intend to—"

"Return there? No, not after all the trouble we had leaving last time." The assassin pulled a face which was echoed by Fenris and Hawke as the entire party remembered fleeing both the templars and Isabela's raiders the last time around. "Perhaps our pursuers have figured out that we're long gone and so have stopped looking for us in the city itself but that is not a risk I am willing to take."

"Good," Fenris said shortly. If the other elf had suggested returning to that bog of stench, Fenris would have listened to his common sense and marched him and his mageling in the opposite direction. If he never had to step foot in Antiva City again, it would be too soon.

"Well I'm not going to sit here and pretend like I want to return there, but that is where the slavers' trail is currently taking us. So if we're not going to follow that trail, what are we going to do?" asked Hawke.

"I'm working on that," replied Zevran.

"Oh. Great." Hawke kept her face blank.

Zevran glanced up from the maps, quirking up an eyebrow at Hawke. "It doesn't sound like you have much confidence in me, little one," he noted.

"Oh really? I wonder why."

"Indeed," Fenris agreed with Hawke readily.

"With friends like you, it isn't any wonder why I've not made much progress," Zevran muttered under his breath. "If you don't believe in me, who will?"

"Um…are you trying to say that you don't think you're capable of doing this job? And here I thought you were your own biggest fan," said Hawke.

Zevran winced as Hawke's barb struck true. "You certainly have mastered the trick of completely deflating a man's ego," he said. "And I'm starting to have my doubts. It makes no sense. We have been going in circles for the last five days. I have no idea what it is Brax is plotting. Unless of course he's figured out that I'm after him and he's doing all this in an attempt to drive me insane."

"I hardly think Brax would care if a whole flock of assassins were after him," Fenris stated. "One does not become a master slaver for the magisters of Tevinter by being weak of heart."

"Is it possible to become one then by lacking reason?"

"I've always thought that one had to lack all common sense and morality in order to feed the magisters' unending appetite for more slaves." Fenris allowed himself a small smile. That wasn't the answer the assassin was looking for, if the glare Zevran was sending his way was anything to go by, but it was still the most truthful one out there.

"What I mean," Zevran spoke slowly and precisely, "is that I thought one needed some modicum of intelligence in order to advance as a slave hunter. Because the way Brax has been spreading his minions across the east of Antiva…why does he continue to collect slaves instead of moving them to Tevinter?"

"Maybe he's waiting for a break in hostilities between the Qunari and the magisters," Hawke suggested. "After all, not only is passage by ship is faster than by land, I also imagine that there are less escape attempts as well out on the open ocean."

Fenris snorted. "If that's the case, he'll be waiting a long time. Even if the magisters were inclined to cease hostilities for a period, the Qunari would hardly agree to indulge them."

"Our grumpy friend is right. It may take two to fight, but a very determined one can prolong a war indefinitely," Zevran put in.

"Is that so?" Hawke frowned as she stared at the map. Her frown deepened as her eyes flicked between the Antiva's eastern seaboard and the Tevinter capital. "Oh dear. Now I'm thinking that we've missed something obvious. Perhaps passage by sea is impossible at the moment, but that still leaves other waterways open. I bet you that he's been ferrying his captive to Tevinter by way of that river." Hawke tapped the map to indicate the large river that ended in Antiva City.

Fenris snarled. Hawke was right. How could they have missed something so obvious? Zevran, however, had a different impression of Hawke's theory. "Impossible. For one, there are no rivers that go all the way through to Tevinter," Zevran said.

Fenris rolled his eyes. The assassin was clearly grasping at straws. They had been caught flatfooted in a bad way, and the other elf was stuck in denial over it. "It would still get them closer to the markets of Minrathous and also have the advantage of being quicker than traveling by foot," said Fenris.

"I'll give you that," Zevran agreed with a careless wave of his hand. "But there is something that you two have not taken into account. River traffic here in Antiva is heavily regulated. There is no way you could get a ship of slaves past the officials in a single city, much less all of the cities you would have to pass."

"Officials can be bribed, can't they?" In Fenris' experience, this occurred all too commonly. Whenever Danarius wanted to act outside local laws, he simply threw money at the local officials until they were bowing and scraping at his feet. The magister only exerted himself by resorting to blood magic the few times he had run into an honest official who wouldn't accept bribes. Sadly Fenris could count the number of times that happened on one hand.

"Spoken like a man of the world, my friend. Yes, officials can be bribed if you have enough coin. The amount of coin it would take to bribe every local tariff collector between Antiva City and Seleny…." Zevran's words trailed off and he shuddered. "Sorry. That was the sound of my mind boggling at trying to calculate such an amount. It simply wouldn't be worth it to take a ship full of slaves by river. You would pay more in bribes than you could ever hope to make."

Fenris had to concede that the assassin did have a point. Hawke, however, wasn't so quick to give up. "But what if the cargo on the ship was especially valuable?" she asked. There was a gleam in her eyes, and Fenris could practically see the wheels in her head turning as she refashioned her arguments to take into account the information Zevran had given them.

"Ha! It would have to be very precious cargo indeed in order for it to be worth—" Zevran stopped suddenly and glanced over at Fenris. His eyes widened. Zevran flicked his gaze over to Hawke, who slowly nodded.

"The notice you showed me said the bounty was fifty sovereigns, right?" Hawke asked conversationally.

"That it did and that was several weeks ago. It probably has increased since then."

"So naturally the amount Brax would receive would be several times higher than that," Hawke.

"Yes and what's more than that is the good will Brax would engender by keeping an important customer of his happy," Zevran added, nodding his head fervently.

Fenris was tired of being left in the dark. He didn't have the slightest idea what the other two were referring to, and that made him feel stupid. He didn't very much like that feeling. It was high time for them to stop speaking in riddles. Fenris crossed his arms and glared icily at his mageling, not happy at how she was leaving him out of the loop. "Care to tell me about this bounty you're speaking off?"

She looked up at him in confusion. "We're talking about the price on your head, of course. You remember —the bounty notice Zevran showed us when we first met."

Fenris flushed. He remembered the assassin thrusting some papers at him in an attempt to convince him to help, but he hadn't bothered to examine them. There wasn't any reason for him to try when he couldn't read, but he wasn't about to admit that weakness of his to Hawke, much less to the assassin. "I didn't really look at it," he said weakly.

"That's right," Hawke said. "I remember that you hardly glanced at it because you thought it could be forged. Well I think that's been proven wrong since then. Anyway Zev and I both think that Brax is probably waiting to capture you before he sends a ship full of slaves down the river."

Now that Fenris knew what they were talking about, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place for him as well. "That does seem likely," Fenris agreed. "He would have a buyer for the other captives in Danarius, which would bring him an additional profit."

While Hawke had reminded Fenris about the price on his head, Zevran had started to pace back and forth. The elven assassin was full to the brim with nervous energy. He was muttering to himself and would occasionally punctuate his thoughts with a grand wave of his arms. Fenris exchanged a glance with Hawke. Had the assassin finally taken leave of his senses? Fenris was about to interrupt the assassin's conversation with himself when Zevran stopped pacing and turned to face his companions.

"All right. I have a plan. It's a very rough plan still, but hear me out. We hand over Fenris to the slavers— "

"No." Fenris refused to consider this mad plan of the assassin. His freedom was precious, and the coin he had paid for it was too high for him to throw it away on a half-baked plan put together haphazardly by Zevran.

"We wouldn't be handing you over for real," Zevran said, exasperation coloring his tone. "You would be bait, bait that we would track back to Brax and—"

"My answer is still no."

"But if you just—"

"Zev, you try to hand Fenris over to any slaver, much less this master slaver that you're after, and your merry band of assassins will be the least of your concerns. I'll gut you myself. With a rusty knife. And that would only be the start." Hawke smiled sweetly at the assassin, but the hint of steel in her voice could not be ignored.

Zevran was apparently desperate enough to argue with her though. "You have certainly become more vicious since we first met. But just try and listen to me. I have no intention of handing over Fenris for good. We would be hiding in the shadows, ready to follow him, and we'll free him during the handoff to Brax."

"Oh yes. Because we're going to be able to walk right up there and ask nicely for them to let the deadly swordsman they have in their grasps go so he can join us in our battle against them. They'll probably also invite us to sit down for tea and cakes so we can get some sustenance in us before we start fighting. And if we're really lucky, maybe they'll lie down so we can walk all over them too." Hawke wielded her sarcasm as ably as Fenris did his sword, and she completely dismembered Zevran's arguments.

He tossed his hands up in the air and stalked off to one side, a string of curses falling from his lips. "All right. Fine. Perhaps I need to think on that a bit more," Zevran said. "My basic plan is still a good one."

"Yes. Except for the part about using Fenris as bait," Hawke said.

"Do you have a better idea?"

"Yes. If you're so desperate to end things, then we can hand you over to the slavers. The description the bounty gives of Fenris is vague enough that it applies to you as well as him, and that one group we ran into couldn't figure out which one of you the bounty was meant for," Hawke put in quickly.

Fenris hid a smirk. He knew what Zevran's answer would be. The assassin was so quick to volunteer others' freedom, but he wasn't a big enough fool to risk his own. Hawke's proposal would be shot down quickly, and then they could turn to the task of formulating a viable plan.

"Fine," Zevran said shortly. Fenris gave a start. He would have never expected the assassin to agree and so quickly.

"Are you feeling all right?" he asked the other elf. "You do realize what you signed up for?"

"I do," replied Zevran. He clenched his fists to his side. "If this is what I must do to finish the job, then so be it. Besides this may work out better. You two don't have to worry about freeing me as I've yet to meet a pair of shackles I couldn't get out of."

Fenris raised his eyebrows but said nothing further. Hawke, however, wasn't finished. "Somehow I get the impression that you still haven't thought things through. There's so many ways this can go wrong. What if we can't—"

Zevran raised a hand to silence the mageling's concerns. "I don't want to hear it. My mind is made up. I know the risks, and I am willing to accept them. Besides I'm only gambling with my life, and I put that on the line long ago. It's been weeks now. The Crows are undoubtedly getting impatient. If I don't get the results they want soon, I'm dead anyway."

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> My thanks to everyone reading this fic and especially to those kind enough to review. :D


	18. Side Story A

**Promises: Side Story A**

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

Author's note: So the vast majority of this fic is in Fenris' limited POV, but once in a while, I'll write a scene from another character's POV. They vary in size and they're not always in chronological order, but I thought I might as well post them here. This particular scene occurs at the end of chapter 9.

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><p>Isabela licked her lips in anticipation as Zevran dropped his hand from her waist so he could squeeze her ass. She would never admit this to the assassin, but she had spent far too much time between ports. Sleeping with her crew was simply out of the question, and so Isabela only had the company of her favorite toy chest to keep her occupied on those long nights out at sea.<p>

Still she supposed her friend had it worse. Poor Zevran had shown up with two of the most scrumptious people Isabela had ever met. That elf—with his lanky, toned form and those eye-dazzling tattoos that stretched as far as the eye could see—just wow. It was a wonder that Zevran was able to keep his hands off of the other elf. Zev loved to flirt with danger, and the white-haired elf positively reeked of it.

And as for their female companion—she was simply perfect. That was the best way to describe her mix of innocence and beauty. If the mage had shown the slightest interest in learning about everything Isabela had to offer, the pirate would have abandoned her old friend in favor of a much more tempting feast.

However it was very obvious that both of Zevran's companions were unavailable. The tall elf seemed downright uncomfortable when Isabela had ogled him. He wasn't used to such open admiration, she gathered. And as for the lovely little mage girl by his side—a thrill ran down Isabela's spine as she recalled the growl the elf had given when she had laid hands on the mage. It was positively delightful. The tall elf would make her a very happy girl once he finally figured out that the mage was just as enamored of him as he was with her.

The girl wouldn't be able to walk straight for weeks.

Unfortunately for everyone else, however, the elf and the mage girl only had eyes for each other. It was sad, really. The girl was obviously inexperienced and waiting for the elf to make the first move while the elf was repressing the attraction he felt towards the girl. Which really was too bad. Isabela was nothing if not a realist, and she knew she had no chance whatsoever at getting either the elf or the girl into her bed alone.

As a pair—well that idea had merit. If she ever ran into them again, that was an option she was sure to explore. Both the elf and the mage girl were tempting morsels. The mere thought of having both of them in her bed at once—it was almost enough to make Isabela orgasm then and there on the stairs.

Just as well she managed to rein it in. Zev had a big head as it was, and she didn't want him thinking that his mauling of her was all it took for her to get off. Even she wasn't that easy.


	19. Chapter 18

**Promises: Chapter Eighteen  
><strong>

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

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><p>Fenris shifted uncomfortably. He was developing a crick in his neck, and his left leg had fallen asleep again. He stretched slowly, taking care not to draw attention to where he sat hidden within a tree.<p>

In the clearing below him, Hawke waited with Zevran bound and gagged on the ground beside her. Though the assassin was tied up, however, he was not unarmed for he had insisted on hiding more than one dagger on his person, stating that no one would try searching a bound captive for weapons. The trio had hammered out the specifics of their plan after Zevran had volunteered to play the bait. For obvious reasons, Hawke would have to be the one to make the exchange. Fenris had worried about Hawke being vulnerable to being taken in by the slavers herself so they could avoid paying the bounty, and thus it had been decided that rather than handing Zevran over to the slavers directly, it would be safer to pass him off to an intermediary.

So it was Hawke was waiting—impatiently as was her wont—for the group of mercenaries who would act as their intermediary. That had been a battle that Fenris had lost as he didn't trust anyone, especially not with Hawke. When he had argued that mercenaries may try to capture Hawke to turn over to the slave hunters as well as the bounty, Zevran had vehemently disagreed with him, stating that there was a fine line between returning a dangerous runaway and selling a freeman into slavery. "It is simply not done, my friend," the blond elf had said. "No honest merc would do such a thing. It would be bad form to sell someone off to the slavers like that…well unless you're related, of course."

In the end, Fenris had to relent to the assassin's arguments, mainly because he couldn't come up with any alternatives. Zevran had promised to take care in selecting the band they contacted, but Fenris was still ready to intervene if Hawke should be threatened. With any luck, the first time they tried to pull off an exchange would work, but Fenris had learned not to rely on luck ever since joining forces with the elven assassin. It was far better to be prepared for any contingency. He had insisted on this repeatedly as the three companions had made their plans.

Fenris' ears perked up as he caught sound of a sizeable group coming towards them. He edged up slightly higher in the tree so he could watch Hawke more easily while still remaining in coverage. Years of training came into play as he froze in place, the only movement he made the slight rise and fall of his chest. A couple of minutes later, Hawke heard the mercenaries too, if the sudden start she gave was anything to go by.

It wasn't long after that the mercs came into sight. There were a dozen of them by Fenris' count, and he instinctively plotted out just how he would direct his attack if he had to step in to defend his mageling. He really wished that Hawke hadn't stepped out in front of Zevran to treat with the apparent leader of this band of mercenaries, a great red-headed brute of a man. It would be so much easier to protect her if the assassin remained between her and the mercs.

"You're late," Hawke announced boldly when the mercs were only a few feet away with her. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd show at all."

The leaders of the mercs snorted in response. "You're lucky we showed at all, seeing how your letter sounded too good to be true. A chance to turn ten sovereigns into at least fifty…sounds like a madcap scheme at best or a trap at worst."

Hawke rolled her eyes. "Please. I doubt you've ever had a chance to earn that much coin. Besides I sent along a copy of the bounty though it can't have been the first time you've heard of it."

"No. It's not." The merc shifted his gaze to Zevran and looked him over. "So this here is the elf that's in such demand?"

"Yes. But don't take my word for it. Doesn't he match the description included with the bounty perfectly?"

"Aye, that he does. Though it makes me wonder. Why would you turn him over to us for a mere fraction of what he's worth? Why not just turn him over yourself?"

Hawke gave the giant merc a look. "It may be hard to believe, but I'm not that stupid. I'm just one girl, good ser. If I tried to hand over this blighted elf to the slavers myself, they're likely to take me captive so as to avoid paying the bounty. If a group of mercenaries did so," Hawke shrugged her shoulders, "well somehow I don't think they'll be so keen to double cross you."

"True enough. But that does beg another question…just how did you manage to capture such a dangerous fugitive? Seeing how you're just one girl and all."

"Luck. If you want to call it that." Hawke jerked a thumb at Zevran. "This one thinks that he's more attractive and charming than he really is," she said. Fenris held back a grin, amused at her apt description of the assassin, while Zevran's face contorted into a grimace. "He thought that a few fast lines were enough to make me fall at his feet," she continued. "Needless to say, he couldn't take a hint and tried to follow me home. So I had to take things into my own hands and strike at his weak spot while I could and well…that was that. I realized he matched the description after I knocked him out. That's when I made sure he couldn't get away and then sent that letter to you."

"That seems to be a fortuitous turn of events. I would have never thought that a little girl like you could get the jump on anyone, much less a deadly fugitive like that one," the merc pointed out. Fenris mentally cursed his companions. He had told them that the story seemed implausible at best but Hawke had insisted that she could sell it and Zevran had backed her up completely. This was yet another example of why they needed to listen to him more.

Hawke batted her eyelashes sweetly at the man. "If you like, I can show you the move I used on him. So long as you don't mind the consequences of course. I've found that if you kick a man in the balls hard enough, it always sends him reeling…and if you're very lucky, it will have long term side effects so richly deserved." The grin Hawke offered up was nothing short of vicious. Fenris winced from his vantage point while below him the mercs shuffled around and coughed nervously at Hawke's suggestion.

"No need for any demonstrations," their leader assured the mageling. "So you want ten sovereigns for the captive, right?"

"Yes. It's a bargain really, considering how much you can exchange him for."

"That it is. But I'm thinking that it would be even more of a bargain if we didn't pay you." He smirked at Hawke as she took a step back. "Didn't think of that, did you?" he mocked her.

Fenris tensed, ready to strike at a moment's notice. Little did the mercs know that Hawke had a plan for such a contingency, but it wouldn't do to reveal their hand too soon. Though it went against all his training, Fenris held his position and gave Hawke a chance to convince the mercs before them that turning on her would be a very bad idea indeed.

Hawke grimaced and pulled out her belt knife, taking several steps backwards until she right by Zevran. "Oh that thought occurred to me. I'm no fool, but then neither are you. I can't hope to fight you and win. However before you reach me, I can free him—and if the bounty notice is to be believed, he's deadly even when unarmed." She gestured with her knife at Zevran. "There's enough of you that you'll probably win but not all of you will make it out unscathed. You have families to go home to, right? How many of you want to take the chance that you'll never see them again, that they'll be kicked out on the streets with no one to support them? Weigh that against the possibility of not having to work for a month once you get the bounty from the slavers."

Those words seemed to do the trick. There was some grumbling from the mercs, but the leader of the band tossed a small bag of coins at Hawke's feet, which she promptly picked up before scrambling backwards towards Fenris' tree. "Well played," he told her, a note of admiration in his voice. "There's your coin so we'll be taking the slave. And if you ever find yourself in need of a bit of company," his eyes raked over her figure, "well you know where to find me," he finished lustfully.

The mercenary leader gave a sharp bark, and two of his men came forward to take custody of the assassin. Then the band left, though not after their leader sent one last leer at Hawke. Fenris had to hand it to his mageling; she resisted the temptation to smack the redheaded idiot very well. He could tell that she was itching to do something rash by the way her fingers twitched. However, he had no time to stop and congratulate her on a job well done for now it was his turn to act.

Fenris ghosted from tree to tree, staying a safe distance behind the mercs. His part in their little plot was to keep track of their movements. The mercs marched northward at a steady paced and stopped to make camp only when the sun set.

While the mercs could rest, however, Fenris' job was not done. Now he had to go back to retrieve Hawke, who hopefully had followed orders for once. Thankfully Fenris found her in the designated spot.

"Were you able to track them?" she said when he landed before her.

A sudden urge gripped Fenris. "No. I'm afraid I lost sight of them," he said in a flat voice.

"What?" Hawke's screech made Fenris wince in pain. "You lost them? How could you—" She stopped in mid-tirade at the sight of his grin. "You're lying, aren't you?" she said accusingly.

"I believe the term you would normally apply is joking," he replied.

"Fine. It's an awfully bad one. It's like something Zev would say. He's been a bad influence on you," she said. "Just as well we'll be parting ways soon after this job of his is over."

Fenris couldn't quite read Hawke's expression. "You sound…disappointed?" he ventured.

"A little perhaps. I'll miss having someone to talk to, but Zev does tend to create a lot of complications."

"I would say the assassin lives to create complications," Fenris agreed with her.

"So are the mercenaries far away? Do you have time to eat before we go? You must be tired," Hawke said.

Fenris was weary but this was no time to rest. It was best that they get a move on. "I can eat as we go," he said. Hawke started to protest but thought the better of it. Instead she reached for their packs, handing him one along with some bread and cheese. Fenris slung the pack on to his back and then led the mageling back to where the mercs were camped.

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><p>The mercenaries handed over Zevran the next day to a group of slavers and collected the bounty as Fenris and Hawke watched while tucked away in a dense patch of bushes. Fenris carefully looked at each slaver, taking in each man's features and demeanor, in order to see if any of them were Brax.<p>

"Any luck?" Hawke asked from where she was crouched beside him, hands at the ready to start casting if he but gave the word.

"I'm afraid not," he whispered back. "None of them have the swagger, the arrogance that a master slaver would have. But all is not lost. These are undoubtedly his underlings. They'll take the assassin back to wherever Brax is, and we'll follow them there."

"That works too, I guess. At least this way we won't have to worry about defeating the mercs as well," said Hawke.

Fenris nodded his head and then waved at her to be silent. He didn't want to tempt fate any more and risk being discovered. Hawke did bring up a valid point. They would have their hands full enough as it was with the slavers; they did not need to take down a band of skilled mercenaries as well.

The two groups parted ways after the exchanged was made with the mercs heading back south while the slavers headed in a northwesterly direction. Fenris and Hawke remained hidden for several minutes after the slavers' departure. Though Hawke had wanted to leave right away so as not to let the slavers ever leave their line of sight, Fenris insisted that they wait until he was certain there were no stragglers around to catch them leaving their hiding spot.

"Can we go yet?" Hawke asked. "We're going to lose them."

"We won't. I don't need to see them to keep track of them," Fenris replied. "You should know that. The mercs left earlier than we thought they would this morning but we still caught up to them."

"I know. It's not that I don't trust you. It's that—"

"Sitting and waiting is unnatural for you, isn't it?"

"Well I wouldn't go that far."

"I would." Fenris decided that they had lain hidden long enough. He stood up and stepped out of the bushes, shaking off the leaves that had fallen upon him. Hawke followed suit, eager to get going once more. She started to walk forward but then gave a yelp of pain. Fenris turned to see what was wrong. His mageling was back on the ground, rubbing at one foot while grumbling at how it had fallen asleep because she had been sitting on it for too long.

"If you were uncomfortable, you should have let me know," he told her.

His mageling glared at him. "I kind of thought I did," she sniffed.

He frowned. Hawke had been pushing him for the last fifteen minutes about when they would be leaving. He had thought that it was because she was impatient but now he could see that there had been more to it than that. "My apologies," he said awkwardly, hanging his head.

She shook her head from side to side. "No, no, I guess I should've been clearer. Besides it's nothing that a good round of stretching won't fix." The mageling brought her legs together in front of her. She alternated between rotating her feet in small circles and pointing her toes. After several rounds of this, Hawke felt well enough to gingerly get on her feet, pointedly ignoring the hand Fenris extended in her direction, and then continued her stretches.

Fenris scanned the ground while his mageling continued to recover. It looked as though that tracking the slavers would be far easier than tracking the mercs. The mercs had taken some precautions when it came to covering their tracks. The slave hunters, however, took no such measures. He supposed it was because the slavers had no real fear of anyone in this territory. This had been revealed to all of Antiva when Brax had the audacity to steal recruits out from under the Crows' noses. That made Fenris wonder if perhaps Zevran was as well regarded amongst the brotherhood of assassins as he claimed. While he wasn't a master assassin—Fenris understood that true masters were practically retired—the blond elf must be within the top echelon of talent amongst the Crows. That was probably also why Zevran was given so much time to complete his assignment. Of course, given that Zevran had volunteered to be bait, it was a safe bet that his time was close to running out.

"Okay, the way you've been staring at the ground for the last few minutes doesn't exactly inspire confidence in me," Hawke said from behind him.

"Hm?" Fenris cocked his head to look at her.

She gestured towards the ground. "Please tell me you can tell where they're going. I'd hate to think that we've left Zevran to the tender mercies of slavers. Which are non-existent as both you and I know."

A light lit above Fenris' head as he realized another reason why Hawke had been so insistent on leaving right away. "They won't harm him at least not while they think he's me," he said. "I didn't see the bounty notice, but I am certain that Danarius wants me back undamaged if possible. He prefers to…administer punishment directly." Fenris hoped that his mageling's insatiable curiosity wouldn't make an appearance here. He really didn't want to go into more detail about the punishments he had endured in the past.

"Oh," Hawke said. "And I guess trying to lie to a blood mage isn't exactly a good idea as they can get inside your head and all," she added hesitantly.

"Yes," he said simply and ended that particular line of discussion. It was time to move on. "It seems that the slave hunters are headed more east than north. If you're ready, it's time for us to go," he said.

Hawke nodded her head and then scrambled back to the bushes to pick up their packs. He took the heavier one from her and then strode forward with his mageling at his side. As they walked, Fenris kept a close eye on the path ahead of them to make sure that he didn't lose the trail. Thankfully his initial assessment was correct, and he had no trouble in finding the slavers' trail. The only real difficulty lay in determining just how far back to stay behind the slavers. If they stayed too close to the slavers, they ran the risk of being discovered by any slaver who just happened to look over his shoulder. If they were too far away, on the other hand, they could be out of position when the slavers met up with Brax. In the end, Fenris settled on a happy medium, staying out of sight but still within striking distance.

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><p><strong>Author's note: <strong>Thanks so much to everyone who left a review. It's always fun to read what you all think of this fic so far.**  
><strong>


	20. Chapter 19

**Promises: Chapter Nineteen  
><strong>

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

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><p>Fenris and Hawke followed the slavers for the rest of the day, stopping only when they saw the glare of several large camp fires a short distance before them. They actually backtracked a little from there and spent the night in a small cave Hawke had spotted earlier during the day. Fenris' first instinct was not to light a fire as he didn't want to take the chance by being discovered by the slavers. However, there were some tasks he wanted to perform tonight that needed a bit of light. Fenris helped Hawke to light a small and well-contained fire near the mouth of the cave, one that couldn't be seen from afar.<p>

By mutual accord, they bypassed cooking that night for neither Fenris nor Hawke had much of an appetite. A cold dinner of stale bread, a bit of cheese, and some jerky was more than enough to satisfy their hunger. After they packed their leftovers up and then laid out the bedrolls, Fenris retreated to the back of the cave so he could shuck his armor. Once out of it, he carefully picked it up and walked back to sit down near the fire so he could first clean and then repair it. They would be facing a major battle against a master slaver and his gang in short order, and so Fenris wanted his armor to be in the best condition possible.

Out of the corner of his eye, Fenris saw that Hawke was opening her mouth to make some remark undoubtedly about his current lack of spikes. He acted quickly to derail that line of conversation before it could begin. "Why don't you take out your knife and practice with it while I'm busy fixing my armor?" he suggested mildly. "I can watch you from here and direct you as needed."

Hawke pulled a face but didn't offer up any arguments. "All right," she agreed with a shrug of her shoulders. She took up a spot across the fire from Fenris so he could observe her easily. She drew her knife, and he noted with approval that Hawke now kept it on her belt rather than tucked away in her pack where it would do no good. While Fenris had to put down his armor to demonstrate a few moves to Hawke, overall he was pleased to see that his mageling remembered much of what he had taught her days before. While the blade would always be a weapon of last resort for her, he was glad that she at least had that option available to her. In the heat of battle, it could perhaps buy the seconds needed for him to fight his way to her should any of their enemies ever flank them.

It was fairly dark when Fenris completed his task, but he didn't feel up to sleeping quite yet and so he volunteered to take first watch. "Fine, but you had better wake me up when it's my turn. I won't be happy if you try to take a double shift," she finished with a determined lift to her chin.

"No worries, I am not that foolish," he said. "We'll both need to be well rested for the fight ahead."

"Oh. So you think that tomorrow…." Hawke trailed off but Fenris understood the gist of her question.

"I think it's likely that the slavers will reach Brax's hideout tomorrow. He's been holding on to a fair amount of captives for some time, captives that he would have already sent on to Minrathous if he didn't have hopes of including me along as well," he explained.

Hawke pulled a face, scrunching up her nose. "That's awfully arrogant of him to assume that he'll catch you."

Fenris shrugged his shoulders. "He was able to capture fledgling Crows. His arrogance is understandable. It will also be his downfall."

"I hope so, seeing that we're the ones trying to take him down and all." Hawke sat down on her bedroll. She pulled her legs up, hugging them with her arms while resting her chin against her knees. "So if it is Brax tomorrow, I'm supposed to launch a fireball at him, right?"

"Yes. We've been over this before," Fenris said. They had gone over their plans in detail before turning the assassin in, and Zevran had made it clear that he was confident he could get out of any bindings holding him so long as he had a suitable distraction. None of them could think of a better diversion than Hawke flinging a fireball in the heart of the slavers. "I give the word, you throw the fireball, and then the assassin will cut loose from his bindings and join us so we can present a united front." Fenris considered his words. "That's if Zevran follows the plan to the letter, which is—"

"Doubtful at best," Hawke finished for him. "But I was wondering—are you certain you can recognize this Brax? I mean, have you ever met him before?"

"Most likely, yes," Fenris answered. He had seen many slavers, all stopping to grovel before Danarius as they presented their captives. Given that there were plenty of Antivan slaves in Danarius' household, Fenris felt certain that he had laid eyes on Brax before. "In my capacity as a magister's bodyguard, I often saw master slavers," he told Hawke. "Besides," he added, "even if I don't remember this Brax's face, I'll be able to tell who he is by his demeanor and how the other slavers act in his presence."

"I see," said Hawke. "I guess that makes sense. It's kind of easy to tell whose in charge based on who is shouting and giving orders and all. But after Zev gets back to us, do you think that perhaps the slavers will run away?"

"Not a chance. They want the award Danarius has put on my head too dearly. What's more, this is another area where their arrogance will play into our plans. Once our challenge is issued, there is no way they'll back down especially when they can't see any way that they can lose."

Hawke looked up at him, her eyes bright with emotion. "This fight…it's going to be a close thing, isn't it?"

Fenris smiled grimly. His mageling had seen straight to the heart of the matter. They were taking a real risk here with only the three of them to go against Brax and his gang of slavers. "Yes, it will be," he told her. Fenris was not about to offer Hawke false comfort by lying to her. She wouldn't appreciate it, and what was more, she needed to be prepared for the worst to happen in order for them to have the best chance at winning.

"Just as well Zev spent the coin to get me those two lyrium potions, isn't it?" she said, cocking her head to one side and offering up a crooked grin. "It might come in handy tomorrow."

"I expect they will. I also expect that we'll be outnumbered so we'll have need of your wide area spells," he told her.

"I know. Magic is useful when you have bunches of enemies to take down," she said.

"Our enemies know that as well so they will make a play for you after you start casting."

"It's happened before. That's why I have you to hide behind. I know we're facing long odds and all, but I can't help but think that the two of us together...we're pretty much unstoppable." Hawke beamed up at him.

"Let us hope so," Fenris said in reply. He wasn't about to suppress his mageling's optimism. She would need it to rest easy for the night. He shook his head, trying to clear it of the worries that had settled into the dark crannies of his mind, those whispers of doubt that had him fearing that perhaps they would fail and not only would he be returned to Danarius but he would have to watch as that monster bled the mageling dry.

"Don't worry, Fenris," his mageling called out to him, rousing him from his dark thoughts. "I won't let them take you. I promise."

Somehow—despite all his fears, despite his history with mages—when Hawke looked at him like that with her eyes bright and fierce, with her chin set with determination he couldn't help but believe that they would win. Hawke was the most stubborn person he had ever run across, and there was just no way she would let them lose. His mageling was right. With him to guard her, she was pretty much an unstoppable force.

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><p>The sun was already rising when Hawke woke him up the next morning. He blinked rapidly to clear away the sleep from his eyes. "What time is it?" he asked her in a rather grumpy tone.<p>

"Too early for you to be up is what I'm guessing." He gave her a look, but his mageling was utterly incorrigible and winked in return. "The slavers haven't left yet if that's what you're worried about. I went out earlier and checked and they were still milling about aimlessly."

That woke Fenris up completely. "You what?" he said. "You're not supposed to scout ahead on your own," he told her sharply.

Hawke rolled her eyes. "Sometimes you worry too much. It was fine. I was careful, like I always am. Besides while we were waiting for the mercs to show up, Zev gave me a few tips on how to stay out of view. Evidently," she lifted up her chin and smirked at him, "he was less than impressed at your efforts in the trees."

"Why am I not surprised?" Fenris asked. He had noticed the assassin speaking to Hawke several times while he watched them from the trees, and he had wondered what that was all about. He had been grateful at the time, thinking that the other elf was trying to soothe Hawke's nerves, but he really should have known better.

They set off after yet another cold meal. Hawke had been right in her assessment; the slavers were taking their time when it came to leaving. When Fenris and Hawke arrived, the slavers were still in the midst of breaking camp. Zevran was off to one side, securely bound but not blindfolded. The assassin threw a saucy wink their way, causing Fenris to swear under his breath while seeking out a better hiding place for him and Hawke.

When the slave hunters finally left, Fenris again took care to remain just the right distance behind them—not too close and not too far. He periodically adjusted his pace based on his assessment of how fresh the slavers' tracks were. This strategy of his came to an abrupt end mid-morning when the forest they had been traveling through gave way to a series of spare hillsides that had nary a blade of grass to hide behind.

Fenris reached out a hand to pull Hawke behind one of the remaining trees. They could no longer remain directly behind the slavers for they could easily be spotted, especially if the slavers were at the top of a hill while the pair of them followed on the road below. Thankfully there was still some cover. Fenris knew that they would have to stay off the beaten path, so to speak, and instead wind their way through rough terrain and rock gardens that lined the road.

The change in scenery also made Fenris more certain than ever that they were close to their quarry. "Be on your guard," he told Hawke in a low voice before taking the lead once more.

His instincts turned out to be true. Less than an hour after they had started their trek through the hills, he heard shouting in the distance. Someone was yelling at the top of their lungs, spewing curses in several languages. His ears perked up as he strained to catch the languages being used. Whoever was cursing stuck mainly to common but branched out to Orlesian, Antivan, and there it was—Arcanum.

A satisfied smile stretched across Fenris' lips. Arcanum was the language of the magisters and the Imperial Senate. Only a master slaver, one who had dealings directly with magisters, would know Arcanum. Regular slavers would only speak Tevinter, the language of the ordinary citizen of the Imperium.

"Hawke," said Fenris, "when we reach the top of the path here, aim a fireball directly at the man we can hear cursing."

Hawke raised an eyebrow at his instructions, and he could tell from the look on her face that she wondered how he could tell that the unseen man was Brax. However such questions remained unvoiced, and Hawke nodded her head. "Will do," she said. Her voice was clear as a bell, and if she felt any fear, she gave no signs of it.

They reached the crest of the hill. Peering down, Fenris could see a dark-haired man, slightly taller than average, waving his arms and swearing fluently as he paced before Zevran. Fenris could only imagine that the master slaver was taking his underlings to task for bringing him the wrong elf.

Then Fenris could feel Hawke gathering her magic to her. She cupped her hands together and called forth a dense ball of flames. With a flick of her wrist, she sent it spinning into the group below them, the fireball landing squarely in that small patch of land between Zevran and Brax. In a blink of an eye, the assassin was free from his bindings—and a second later, Zevran sent one of his hidden daggers flying, straight at the lone mage amongst the slavers. His aim was true, and the slaver mage fell to the ground, the dagger protruding from one eye.

But that was all the time that their surprise attack brought them. Brax's eyes lit up with unholy glee as he caught sight of Fenris, and he shouted orders at his men to attack even as he drew a large sword from his back. A flurry of arrows darted towards the assassin, which he dodged before disappearing whilst turning a backflip.

Fenris drew his sword, his markings flaring to life. He set his stance wide as he prepared to meet the initial rush of slavers. Brax lingered behind. Fenris knew that the master slaver was planning to make his attack only after Fenris was weakened by his underlings. Fenris' lips curled into a snarl; if the master slaver thought that Fenris would be felled by such sloppy tactics, well then he had another thing coming.

The slavers' strike group charged at Fenris, shouting war cries as they went, when suddenly the temperature dropped precariously. Snow and ice swirled through the air, surprising even Fenris as Hawke had never called forth a blizzard before. Terror and fear were writ large across the faces of the four slavers leading the charge as Hawke's spell froze them in place. Gripping his sword tightly, Fenris struck at the slavers, shattering them into pieces. Hawke's blizzard provided him cover, and he stalked the battlefield viciously, taking out one slaver after another. As he continued to wreak death and destruction, out of the corner of his eye, he could see lighting shooting through the storm to help the assassin, whose daggers dripped with poison as he took out Brax's cadre of archers one by one.

Then a heavy strike landed squarely on his blade. Fenris looked up to see that Brax had entered the fray, choosing to go up against the warrior elf himself as the blizzard came to an end. Close on Brax's heels was another set of slavers, their eyes set firmly on Hawke as their target. Fenris spared a glance backwards at Hawke, to make sure she was safe, and that was his undoing.

Brax took advantage of that momentary lapse of concentration and struck again, sending Fenris stumbling backwards. "Give it up, elf," the master slaver told him with a smug look of superiority, "You cannot win. Surrender now and I'll spare your companions," he added before launching a blow at Fenris that sent the elven warrior reeling again as he desperately sought to regain his balance.

A sphere of ice whipped past him and struck Brax squarely on his chest, slowing the master slaver's movements enough for Fenris to parry the next strike. A second later, Brax's underlings were surrounded by specks of fire that burst into great tongues of flames, setting a good number of them on fire.

Those lucky enough to be spared that fate, however, found themselves surrounded by a storm of the more traditional sort. Winds howled in rage and chains of lighting flickered through the sky as Hawke unleashed yet another powerful elemental spell in her arsenal upon their enemies. She was breathing hard now as she downed her second lyrium potion, having taken the first one some time before, and she would need a few minutes before she could cast again. However the slavers still on their feet after her spells became easy pickings for Zevran, who had finished killing the archers and was now coming back to help his companions.

Fenris still had his hands full with Brax despite Hawke's ice spell slowing the master slaver down. He parried strike after strike, looking for his chance to counterattack, as Brax continued to taunt him.

"Why do you still fight, elf?" Brax asked him. "For your freedom? You're not free. You're still serving a magister even though she may not be called such in these lands."

Fenris growled and struck at the man's head. Hawke was not a magister. She was nothing like the blood mages who ruled Tevinter, and he would not listen to her be slandered by one of their foul servants.

Brax smirked briefly, pleased at finding a weak point in Fenris' armor, and continued along in the same vein. "You should return to your master, elf. Sure, the magister you serve now may be prettier but she can't take care of you, not the same way Master Danarius can. When was the last time you had a warm meal or slept with a roof over your head. Face it—you had it better in Tevinter, you just didn't know it. It's time to end this farce of an escape and go home where you belong."

Fenris was not about to give the slaver the satisfaction of reply. Instead he sent a flurry of strikes at Brax, each of which were matched by the slaver's sword. The master slaver grunted as their blades met and then pushed Fenris back, but not before Fenris heard a dull echo ringing from Brax's sword, a telltale sign that the weapon had a weak spot, a point of stress that Fenris could take advantage of.

He started another series of strikes, this one designed to hit that critical point on his opponent's sword. Each time his sword struck Brax's, Fenris could hear that telltale ringing getting louder and louder. Finally a vicious blow from Fenris' sword broke Brax's weapon cleanly in half. Brax's mouth dropped open as he struggled to process how his sword came to be broken.

Fenris wasn't about to give the master slaver time to figure that out however.

"You talk too much," he said shortly, glaring at the man. Then the elf sent an overhead strike at Brax, separating the master slaver's head from the rest of him. Utterly demoralized, Brax's underlings didn't put up much of a fight after that, and the companions made short work of the remaining slavers, suffering none of them to live.

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> My thanks to all my amazing reviews. You guys are the best. The next chapter wraps up this first story arc, and hopefully I'll have it up in a couple of days.


	21. Chapter 20

**Promises: Chapter Twenty  
><strong>

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

* * *

><p>After the battle was done, it was an easy matter to follow Brax's tracks back to his main compound. There were a few slavers still guarding the entrance but between the three of them, the companions had no trouble with getting rid of those slavers. A couple of the guards had run away at the sight of them. While Fenris had wanted to give chase and hunt them down, both Hawke and Zevran insisted they waste no time in freeing the captives.<p>

The small group entered the compound, all of them keeping their weapons close at hand just in case they ran into more slave hunters. The only other slavers they ran into, however, were a pair of unarmed guards taking a break in the larder. Despite their lack of weapons, Fenris showed no mercy to them. He took them down before they had a chance to react, not needing any assistance from his companions to rid Thedas of a few more slavers.

Hawke raised an eyebrow when he turned back to her but otherwise didn't comment on his viciousness. Any misgivings that the mageling might have felt were erased the moment the companions stepped into the holding cave. Hawke gave a sharp gasp of horror at the sight. Captives were crammed into each cell, and it was obvious that they had been on short rations for too long. However once Hawke got over her initial shock, she turned out to be the one most trusted by the captives amongst the three of them. Fenris knew that he was foreboding and not a few captives visibly shied away from him. Zevran might have been able to charm the slavers' victims into trusting him but he had disappeared after making an offhand comment about needing to find his lost recruits. Thus it was Hawke who reassured the men and women they freed that the three of them were there to help and that this wasn't just some elaborate hoax. Hawke had an aura about her that made people trust her, and it served her well as she and Fenris went from cell to cell, freeing the captives and giving them directions to both the larder and the exit.

All in all, they wound up freeing several dozen captives. It took the work of hours to set all of the prisoners free, especially as not a few of them went on and on about how grateful they were. Frankly Fenris wished they would show their gratitude by following their directions and fleeing at once. While they had slaughtered all of Brax's gang, he knew that it was not uncommon for there to be flare-ups between different groups of slavers. It was unlikely that any other gang of slavers would attack Brax's group, but Fenris was never the sort who liked to leave things to luck. He wanted to leave and the sooner the better.

"I think I'm losing my voice," Hawke croaked as she waved good bye to the last set of captives.

"That wouldn't surprise me. You've been talking non-stop for most of the afternoon," Fenris agreed. At Hawke's sharp look, he hastened to add, "That wasn't a complaint. Far from it, in fact. I am glad you were here. There were not a few captives who I thought wouldn't leave for fear of this being all a trick."

"I know. They were here too long," Hawke said, her eyes darkening with sadness. "Thank the Maker I was able to convince them otherwise. Hopefully they can get back home and avoid slavers from here on out."

"Speaking of which, if we wish to do the same, it would be best for us not to linger," Fenris said.

"I had no plans of lingering, especially not when we have a reward to collect and the rest of Thedas to explore. Where is Zev, anyway? Don't tell me he's going to try and skip out on us!"

Fenris bit his tongue. He hadn't thought of that. Given how easily the assassin had stolen from his friend Isabela after the raider had taken pity on him, Fenris wouldn't put it past the other elf to try and avoid paying them for their help. "He said something about looking for his recruits. They must still be around here somewhere."

"They better be," Hawke said grimly, and Fenris grunted approvingly. There were benefits to taking down Brax—after all the master slaver had a huge bounty on Fenris—but they needed to get paid. They hadn't taken on any other jobs while they were with Zevran, and so Fenris' coin pouch was on the light side.

Fenris and Hawke scoured the cave before wandering outside. There, off to one side of the mouth of the cave, they found Zevran. His hands were on his hips and a scowl was on his face as he lectured the recruits in a stern tone. To Fenris' surprise, the Crows' recruits were young. Very young, in fact, as even the eldest appeared to be a few years younger than Hawke.

"Why they're just kids! Zev never mentioned that his recruits were children," Hawke noted sotto voce to Fenris.

"No, he did not," Fenris agreed. With Hawke a step behind him, he approached Zevran as the assassin continued to scold the children who apparently were Crows-in-training.

"—an absolute disgrace to all Crows living," Zevran bit out, a dark scowl marring his handsome features. "Never, ever has there been a set of recruits captured, much less captured so easily. From the traces we found, you hardly put up a fight."

"But, sir," one boy interrupted the blond elf's tirade, braver than the rest, "there were so many of them—"

Zevran gave a short, mocking laugh. "Ha! Their numbers would have meant naught if you all had managed to stay hidden and struck from the shadows like good assassins do," he said, scoffing openly at the excuse the Crow-in-training had tried to feed him. "But enough of this. I wash my hands of the lot of you. You are to head back to Antiva City post-haste and report to Taliesin. I have business in Rialto, and so I cannot be bothered to escort you."

"However," Zevran continued as he wagged his finger at the recruits, who were now bunched up together, "let me warn you against making any side trips to visit family or friends. You are in enough trouble as it is. If we find out that you didn't head straight back to Antiva City…." Zevran slashed his finger across his neck.

"Now go!" the assassin said sharply. The recruits didn't need to be told twice, and they almost fell over themselves trying to get away from Zevran and his dark mood.

"That was harsh, Zev," Hawke said, stepping forward so that she was now at Fenris' side. "They're just kids. Surely you didn't need to be so cruel especially since they've probably received punishment enough by being captured by slavers."

Zevran turned so that he was facing Hawke and Fenris before answering. "You obviously know nothing of the Crows' training methods, little one. They are harsh for the Crows have no use for weak assassins." A sudden wistful look fluttered across his face. "Ah but you are soft and kind—too soft and too kind much like my friend who was training these children. Her softness did not wind up serving any one well."

"Still we just freed them, Zev," Hawke persisted in her arguments. "Surely you could allow them some time to recuperate before sending them back."

"No," Zevran replied flatly. "I can't. They've had enough of a vacation from their usual training as it is. The Crows pay good coin for their recruits, and so they own each and every breath those children take."

Fenris' heart dropped to his stomach over those words as an expression of dismay settled upon Hawke's face. The assassin had just implied that—Fenris shook his head to clear it. Perhaps Zevran had misspoken or perhaps he had misheard what was actually said or perhaps—

"That's a bad way to put it, Zev," Hawke said haltingly. "You make it sound like the Crows actually buy their recruits rather than…well you know, recruit them."

Zevran tilted his head to one side. "Actually I think I put it just right because that is exactly what the Crows do to gain the majority of their 'recruits'." He rolled his eyes at Hawke's sharp intake of breath. "You shouldn't be so surprised, little one. While the life of a Crow may seem glamorous and exciting to those who do not know better, in reality it is harsh and full of danger. There aren't enough fools in the world willing to volunteer for such a life. The Crows' ranks would never be full if they didn't purchase the most promising of children from the slums and whorehouses of Antiva. This is especially true given that most fledgling recruits do not live long enough to become assassins. Surviving the Crows' training is an accomplishment in and of itself."

"But that would mean—are you saying that we saved those children from one set of masters only to return them to another?" Hawke cried.

"I think that is exactly what he means," Fenris growled. He had known something was off about the assassin from the start, but he had never expected this.

Zevran scratched his skin as he considered their accusations. "Well yes, you could put it that way. I prefer to see it as returning those children to their rightful place."

"Their rightful place? That would be with their parents!" said Hawke.

"With their parents? Ha! Don't make me laugh, little one. Who do you think sold them to the Crows?"

"You can't—"

"What? It's not that hard to believe, is it? Considering that whores sells their bodies every day, it comes naturally for most of them to be all too willing to sell the fruits of their bodies as well, particularly when such a sale means they no longer have to worry about feeding and clothing their children. It's one of those rare situations where everyone wins."

"Except of course for the children who can't take the Crows' training and die," Hawke pointed out to the assassin.

Zevran shrugged his shoulders. "It's the way of the world. The weak die while the strong survive."

Hawke's hands were clenched into fists at her side, and Fenris could almost see the steam rising from her head. Those were all the clues he needed to tell that Hawke was about to do something foolish. He decided to intercede and give his mageling to think things through before acting rashly.

"If the Crows believe their recruits' lives to be so worthless, then why bother with all this?" Fenris waved a hand behind him at the cave. "Why bother to send anyone after Brax much less those children?"

"It's a matter of pride. The Crows get the first pick of Antivan children. Tevinter slavers have to wait until we're done. It has always been this way. It would set a very bad example if we let him get away with such a transgression." Zevran grinned wickedly. "I think I told you before that rescuing the recruits was just an afterthought, yes? My main goal was to kill Brax, and now that I have, my reputation will only improve amongst the Crows. I intend to be a master assassin one day, and no Crow has ever become a master by not taking on the most dangerous of assignments. That I was able to help my friend by seeing the recruits she lost returned to the fold…well I am lucky bastard indeed."

"Bastard is right, but there are far worse things that I can think of to call you. How can you bear to live with yourself?" Fenris was taken aback by the sheer level of disgust in Hawke's voice.

The assassin, however, took her disdain in stride along with the death glare she was leveling at him. "How can I stand living with myself? Why there are days that I hardly do. It is better than the alternative, however, and so I persevere. It's one of my more admirable qualities, I think."

"There are some things worth dying for," Hawke declared with a determined lift to her chin.

"Are there?" Zevran asked. "Don't answer that. I'm willing to concede there may be rare occasions when dying might be worth it, when one's death would make a real difference. But putting my life on the line for some abstract principle just to go down in one last blaze of glory? Such things make very good tales, I admit, but the problem with such stories is that their heroes are never around to hear them."

"And I can see that you're thinking about doing something very foolish," Zevran went on before Hawke could answer him. "I would advise you not to. You and your grumpy friend might be able to take me out—well actually you probably could although you wouldn't escape unscathed—but you have no hope when it comes to going up against all of the Crows of Antiva. You should take this victory for what it is and cherish it."

"This? This is no victory—"

Fenris sighed. It was past time for him to put an end to this. "That's enough, Hawke," he told her.

Hawke turned her eyes towards him, eyes brimming with outrage. "Fenris! You heard him! We rescued those children only to return them to their original slavers. Surely you can't be happy with that."

"I'm not," he said. "I should have known better that to accept the assassin at his word," he said, sneering in Zevran's direction. "But it is done. We cannot change things, and so we should just accept this for what it is."

Hawke's eyes flashed and he could tell that he needed to convince her further. "It is not a complete loss, Hawke," he said gently. "While this…this outcome isn't what either of us wanted, we did put an end to a notorious master slaver as well as save those children from being bled dry by Tevinter magisters. It is…enough."

"No, it's not!" Hawke cried. "It isn't enough!"

Suddenly Fenris lost all patience with his mageling. Allowing her to continue along this path would only lead them to their deaths. Like Zevran, Fenris wasn't ready to die just yet, and he certainly wasn't about to let Hawke die. "No, it isn't. But then it's never enough," he ground out through gritted teeth. He knew he was being harsh on his mageling, but he needed her to understand. "No one can ever do enough. Not even Andraste herself did enough for despite the rebellion she led, blood mages still rule the Imperium and its slavers haunt every last corner of Thedas."

Hawke's mouth snapped shut and she reeled back from him, as though his words were a palpable blow. For a second, Fenris feared that she was going to continue to argue with him. However, she surprised him by whirling on her heel and marching away from the assassin. "Let's go," she said. "I can't wait to get out of this blighted country."

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> My thanks to everyone who has stuck with this fic so far. I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter.


	22. Chapter 21

**Promises: Chapter Twenty-One  
><strong>

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

* * *

><p>Though Hawke spoke little for the rest of the day, she remained by Fenris' side thus erasing any his fears that he had been too hard on his mageling and that she was planning on leaving him behind. The assassin, however, did not fare so well. Hawke practically remained glued to Fenris and made sure to always keep the elven warrior between her and the other elf. For his part, Fenris did not complain. He had never trusted the assassin, and after Zevran's revelation about the Crows, he could not wait until they saw the last of the blond elf.<p>

The small group made good time and reached Rialto in a couple of days. Hawke made a beeline for the market as their supplies were running shockingly low since she had been in such a rush to leave the slavers' hideout that they didn't have a chance to replenish their supplies from its larder. Fenris noticed that the assassin disappeared when it came time to pay for the foodstuffs Hawke picked out. With a muttered curse, he reached for his coin pouch, nearly emptying it.

"How much do we have left?" Hawke asked as they walked away from the market.

"Enough for an inn tonight," Fenris replied.

"Just as well we're not planning on staying long in the city," Hawke remarked. "Just like old times," she added with a grin. That lifted his spirits for he had not seen Hawke look so happy since they had left the slavers' holding caves.

"Indeed. It will be nice for it to be just the two of us again," he said. He was rewarded by Hawke's grin turning into a full-fledged smile. His mageling practically glowed with happiness upon hearing that remark.

It took them some time but eventually they found an inn that they could afford to both eat and stay at for the night. The inn's special for the evening was purportedly a stew but neither Hawke nor Fenris could identify the mystery meat within it. Fenris had laid down his spoon, having finished his dinner, and was watching Hawke as she picked at the stew for the parts she liked when all of a sudden there was a heavy thud as a large coin pouch landed beside him on the table.

Fenris looked up to see that the assassin had rejoined him and was wearing that annoying grin of his. "There!" he said grandly. "Half of my take, just like I promised. Don't look so shocked, my friends. Zevran Arainai always keeps his promises…well except when I don't."

"Like that makes any sense." Hawke rolled her eyes before blowing on her stew to cool it down.

The assassin actually winced at Hawke's tone. "Ah I wish you wouldn't hate me so, little one. I did not make this cruel world of ours. I am only trying to survive in it, the same as you," he told her.

Hawke sighed and then put down her spoon. "I don't hate you, Zev. You're far too likeable for that." The assassin beamed at her admission. "I just…I guess you can I say I pity you. You accept your chains for what they are, and so you'll never be free of them. That's no way to live."

"Maybe it's not living as you define it but it works for me," Zevran replied. "At least this way I get to keep breathing. Now I must be off. Taliesin is undoubtedly is waiting for me. I wish you well, little one. And as for you, my friend," he said, turning towards Fenris, "I wish you much luck in keeping her out of trouble. You're going to need it."

Regretfully the assassin was probably right, Fenris reflected after the other elf left. He lifted the coin pouch off of the table, raising one eyebrow as he felt its weight. They had never asked Zevran just how much his take was but evidently it was a very significant award. It made sense that the reward would be significant, seeing how Brax had been the most feared slaver in all of Antiva. Fenris poured what little coin he had into the pouch Zevran had left and then placed it inside of his armor for safe-keeping. He would count it later in the privacy of their room and away from prying eyes.

Hawke pulled a face as she watched him put the pouch away. "So we did get paid for our trouble," she mumbled. "It feels wrong taking it though."

Fenris frowned. Now was not the time for Hawke to stick to that pesky moral code of hers. "Hawke," he said warningly.

"Don't worry, don't worry. I've not taken complete leave of my senses. I know we need the money. I'm not about to tell you to throw it back in Zev's face or anything like that. It just would be…it would be nice if we could make that gesture, that's all." She sighed heavily but then offered him a wry grin. "At least this way we can get out of Antiva without having to take on any more side jobs. I'm tired of this country. Any ideas about where to go to next?"

"Away from here is all I'm thinking," Fenris said.

"That sounds like a plan to me. I think we should—"

Hawke was interrupted by a pair of hands gripping the end of their table as a shadow settled over them. "Hello loves," drawled a husky voice. Fenris looked up to see the dusky skin and brown eyes of a rather angry lady pirate. "Thought you saw the last of me back in Antiva City, I bet."

Isabela grinned wickedly at them and then took a seat next to Hawke, boxing the mageling in. Fenris mentally cursed himself. First the assassin and now the pirate had snuck up on them. He silently vowed to start paying better attention to their surroundings, especially when he was separated from Hawke by any distance at all, no matter how small.

"Now, now, there's no need to scowl like that, darling," Isabela told him. "I'm not after you. All you have to do is tell me where Zevran is hiding, and then I'll be on my merry way."

"We don't know, Isabela. We've parted company with Zevran," Hawke told her. She squirmed in her seat and scooted closer to the wall so she wasn't so close to the pirate.

"Please, kitten, don't lie. You can't fool me. My men saw that blasted elf enter this dive not ten minutes ago."

"That's right. Zev came, he annoyed us, and then he left. Not five minutes ago by my count. If you hurry, you might even catch up with him," Hawke said.

Isabela gave her a look. "Oh now, isn't that convenient. Zev left right before I got here, hmm?" The pirate rolled her eyes. "Kitten, I wasn't born yesterday and even if I was, I wouldn't fall for such a weak tale. Let's be sensible now. He's the one I want to hurt, not you, but if I have to…."

Fenris curled his lip and growled. He didn't like anyone threatening Hawke. "Touch her, and you're dead."

His threat had little effect. Isabela merely rolled her eyes again before reaching over to lightly trail her fingers along Hawke's shoulder. "There. I touched her. What are you going to do?" she asked mockingly. "Nothing, that's what. Because you can't do anything to me before I can get to her. Don't make threats you have no intention of carrying out, love. You lose all sorts of credibility that way."

Fenris hated it that the bloody raider was right. There wasn't much he could do while his Hawke was closer to Isabela than him. "You do realize that every second you waste with us is one that the assassin is using to get further away," he pointed out.

"That's the thing. He can't get away. I have this place surrounded. I'm going to find Zevran sooner or later so why don't you make things easier on you and just tell me where he's hiding? I won't hurt him…much."

"We already told you that he's gone. Honestly! Chances are Zevran knew that he was being followed—he's cagey like that—and so he knew his escape route before he even entered this place. Not that he shared any of that with us," Hawke added. She wrinkled her nose. "He likes to keep important details like that to himself, I've noticed."

"Funny that. So have I," Isabela agreed pleasantly, as if she hadn't been threatening Hawke the second before. She leaned towards the mageling. "Kitten, you're too young to get caught up in the sort of trouble Zevran likes to get up to. And don't feed me that line again about how he just left right before I got here. Even one as young as you has to understand how weak a story that is."

"Which is why I wouldn't even try it if it weren't true!" Hawke grumbled. "Besides it's not like you really want those maps of yours back anyway."

"That's where you're wrong, love. It took me years to draw those maps—and even more to accumulate all the little treasures I've hidden away. Believe you me, I want them back. Badly."

"Oh? And it never occurred to you where Zev must have hid them?" Hawke asked. "In case you didn't notice, seeing how you were a little preoccupied at the time, he didn't take any packs with him. He even left his coin pouch with Fenris, you must remember that."

Isabela's jaw dropped open and her eyes widened as her face first turned pale before darkening into red. "That blasted…stupid…lying sack of shit!" She gnashed her teeth in rage. "I thought…shit! I should've known something was wrong when he ran out on me despite claiming to be up for more."

Fenris raised an eyebrow. "And you bought that story?" he asked.

"I wasn't at my best. I had too much to drink the night before otherwise I would've noticed my maps were missing sooner," the pirate said. She pounded the table with one fist. "I still want those maps back though. If only to stick them up his stupid fucking ass."

"The assassin would probably enjoy that," Fenris noted dryly.

"Oh no, he won't enjoy it, not one bit, not once I'm through with him." Isabela let out an impressive string of curses, flitting from one language to the next. Then she shook her head viciously before demanding of them once more, "So where is he?"

"He's not here," said Fenris.

"I told you he already fled," Hawke said at the same time.

"Isn't it about time you move on to a better story?" Isabela asked in exasperation. Then she paused before pounding the table again and launching into another tirade of curses. "You aren't lying, are you?" she finally managed to get out when she had finished turning the air blue.

Hawke shook her head. "Sorry," she said.

"Damn and blast! The stupid blighter pulled one over on me again." Isabela signaled with one hand for a server and ordered a tankard of ale. "I wonder which of my men he managed to sneak by this time. If they had caught him, they would have already dragged him back in here." The tankard arrived, and Isabela wasted no time in quaffing it.

Fenris and Hawke exchanged glances. The raider's anger did seem to be focused on their former companion, and she had even said several times that she held no grudge against them. That being said, Fenris still felt it was best to proceed with caution, especially as her position at their table kept Hawke from being able to freely leave, and he tried to communicate as much with Hawke. His mageling rolled her eyes, all but shouting at him that she knew as much already, thank you very much.

"So," Isabela drawled, interrupting their silent conversation and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, "I don't suppose either of you know where Zev's headed next."

"Not really," Hawke said with a shake of her head. "Though before he left, he mentioned having to meet with someone called Taliesin."

The scowl on the pirate's face only grew fiercer and she finished her ale in a single swig. "He told you that for my benefit, I'm sure," she grumbled. She waved down the server again and ordered more ale. "Letting me know that if I want to continue chasing after him, I'll have to deal with his usual partners as well."

"Oh. I take it they're not as nice as us," Hawke ventured.

Isabela let out a short laugh. "Oh, kitten, nice is never a word I would use in connection with Taliesin. Rinna isn't that bad for a Crow but as for the other…I'd trust a viper more. I would rather sleep with one too. I'd be more likely to wake up the next morning in one piece that way." She shrugged her shoulders and continued working her way through her ale. Fenris raised an eyebrow. The raider was going to have a monster of a hangover tomorrow morning, but he saw no reason to point that out

Hawke looked uncomfortable, pressed up almost against the wall the way she was. Fenris decided that it was time for them to go. "If you have no further questions of us, then we will take our leave," he said stiffly.

"So soon? But we've hardly had any time to catch up," Isabela protested. She sent a knowing glance over at Hawke. "Anything new pop up between the two of you?" she asked with a salacious wink.

"No," Hawke said quickly, a blush rising in her cheeks, while Fenris choked on any response he might have. "We've not done much. We toured the countryside with a lying, thieving assassin and managed to put an end to a slaving ring, that's all."

"Huh. So Zev managed to complete his assignment after all? Just as well I know better than to bet against that man. He's always been able to pull his ass out of the fire just when you'd think all hope was lost." There was a note of admiration in Isabela's voice.

The mageling gave a soft sigh, centering herself, before turning on the charm. "So how have you been?" she asked the lady pirate brightly.

"You mean aside from plotting my revenge all hours of the day?" Isabela asked dryly.

"Oh please." Hawke waved her hand carelessly. "Not that I doubt you've spent plenty of time thinking of what you'd do to Zev if you catch him—"

"Once I catch him, not if," Isabela corrected.

"Fine, fine. Once you catch him then. That being said, plotting revenge gets boring after awhile so you must have done something else to entertain yourself."

"Oh. That. If that's what you're asking, I've been—"

Fenris could see where this conversation was headed and he did not like the direction one bit. "What are you doing here?" he asked abruptly.

Isabela gave him a puzzled look. "What am I doing here? You know that. I've been tracking down the most annoying person I know," she replied.

"Yes, but how did you get here? Without your ship—"

"I have my ship. If Zev stole that, I wouldn't be sitting here talking to you. No, I'd be storming Antiva City right about now," the pirate proclaimed.

Hawke perked up at that. She leaned towards the pirate, a gleam of excitement in her eyes. "You would go up against the Crows at their home base?"

"Maker no!" Isabela looked at Hawke as though the mageling had lost her head. "I'm not stupid or suicidal. No, I would be visiting all of Zev's favorite brothels, spreading rumor after rumor about him being beset by all sorts of nasty diseases. By the time I was done, there wouldn't be a single whore in the entire city willing to touch him, much less bed him."

"That's a rather mundane revenge, I think," noted Hawke.

"That would be just the start," Isabela said. "But Zev didn't steal my ship—and he should know better not to even try—so why did you think I didn't have my ship?" she asked, her attention focused on Fenris once more. "If you know something that I don't…." she added threateningly.

"I don't," Fenris said. "I simply thought that without your maps, you would be unable to safely navigate the waters."

Isabela snorted. "Any good captain knows her regular routes like the back of her hand. I don't need those maps to sail the sea lanes I've been on for years. But it is true that I do need them for alternate routes that I'm not too familiar with." She sighed loudly. "Though to tell the truth, what I'm really upset about is that those maps marked out where I keep my stashes. I have this one stash, you see, where I've hoarded the finest of Antivan brandies." She grimaced at the ale before her. "Nothing like this slop, I assure you."

Fenris and Hawke exchanged another glance at the mention of that particular stash. This one, however, was intercepted by the lady pirate and she quickly divined its meaning.

"Balls! That stupid assassin stumbled over it, didn't he?" she cried. "He probably helped himself to the best bottles too."

Isabela buried her face in her hands as Hawke awkwardly patted her on the back. "You know, it's not the fact that he stole my maps or helped himself to my priceless brandy that hurts the most," the pirate said. "What really gets me is that he managed to pull one over on me so easily. Blast! He must think that I'm such an easy mark."

Fenris couldn't help but think that Isabela had been an easy mark if Zevran had been able to walk away with her maps so easily. Hawke, however, tried her best to comfort the raider. "There, there," said the mageling. "I doubt Zev thinks that. He probably thinks that he's so awesome that he is able to actually steal from you and get away with it."

"Temporarily," Isabela said.

"Yes, of course," Hawke agreed readily, earning a smile from the pirate.

"You really are a sweet thing," Isabela said. "Much too good to be hanging around the likes of Zevran. Though you're probably right. Zev has always had a big head. He's probably congratulating himself for being skilled enough to steal from me without my noticing. The next time I sleep with him, I won't let him leave without a strip search."

"The next time you sleep with him?" Hawke asked dubiously.

"I would have thought that you wouldn't touch the assassin ever again much less sleep with him," Fenris added.

Isabela shrugged. "It depends on the circumstances. If there's no one else more suitable around and I was really desperate to get laid, then let's face it, I probably would sleep with him again. He's not the best I've ever had, but he's not half bad either. But if I did, I wouldn't let him leave without making sure he's not stealing anything from me."

"Burn his clothes while he's sleeping," Hawke suggested. "If he's starkers, he can't hide anything."

"Oh that's a way to fit in a bit of revenge. I like the way you think, kitten." Isabela tilted her head to one side and looked at the mageling through half-closed eyes. "In fact, I think I like you very much. Enough to offer you passage out of Antiva on my ship, if you've not found any other transportation already."

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this latest part. And to everyone who reviewed-you guys really know how to make my day. :D Thanks so much for reviewing.


	23. Chapter 22

**Promises: Chapter Twenty-Two  
><strong>

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

* * *

><p>Hawke blinked, taken aback by Isabela's offer of passage on her ship. She glanced over at Fenris before answering, and he knew that he didn't need to tell her what his opinion was when it came to traveling by boat. "Thank you," she told the lady pirate slowly, "but we actually were planning on traveling by land. I'm not very fond of boats, and neither is Fenris."<p>

"One, I offered you a spot on my ship not some rickety old boat. It makes a world of difference to travel on a proper ship rather than the washtubs masquerading as ones that they have in most of Ferelden. Two, seeing how the templars have been frothing at the bit to catch you ever since you gave them the slip in Antiva City…well let's just say that I don't think that you want to stay in this country any longer than you have to."

Fenris scowled. While he hadn't forgotten their narrow escape in Antiva City, he had thought that their trail was too cold for the templars to follow. "We haven't seen hide or hair of any templars in weeks," he said. "What makes you think that they know where we are?"

"You were working with a Crow, my dear. Undoubtedly Zev had strings pulled and made sure that the templars were fed bad information," Isabela smoothly replied. "Now that you're no longer working with Zev, I'm afraid that such protection won't be extended to Hawke any longer."

"You don't think," asked Hawke, looking down at her hands with a pensive expression, "that Zev might tell the templars where we're at?"

Isabela shook her head vigorously no. "Zev won't. That's not his style. He'll lie to his partners and rob them blind, but he wouldn't go so far as to have them killed…well not without reason that is."

"But if he were offered enough coin—" Fenris suggested.

"No, he wouldn't. You're lucky that he likes the two of you. He won't sell you out. Still it's only a matter of time before the templars discern your direction after they figure out that they have been following a false trail," explained Isabela.

"So we need to leave Antiva and quickly." Fenris frowned as he reached the same conclusion as the lady pirate. He wasn't looking forward to traveling by sea again, but it looked like he had no real choice. "Very well then. We accept your offer," he said brusquely.

"But—" Hawke started to issue a protest but fell silent after seeing Fenris' serious mien. "Fine," she said, expelling a large breath. "How much is this going to cost us?"

Fenris jerked back in his seat, surprised by his mageling's question. An uneasy feeling settled over him as he thought things through. The lady pirate had never mentioned charging them anything and so the cost of her help never crossed his mind. Given what he little he knew of the pirate's personality, it was highly likely that she expected some form of payment from them.

"You know it's generally better to negotiate the price before you accept the offer." Isabela rubbed her hands together greedily, which made Fenris only more nervous.

"Well considering you never said anything about charging us a sovereign or two, Fenris here probably thought you were offering to do us a favor."

"I was," Isabela put in quickly.

"For free," Hawke snapped. She sighed. "But that's not the way the world works, is it?"

"No, it's not," Isabela agreed pleasantly. "You aren't half as naïve as you look, kitten."

"Yet I'm still too green and inexperienced by far," the mageling muttered under her breath, a sad look in her eyes. Then she straightened up in her seat and met Isabela's gaze head on. "You probably need a bit of coin, don't you, to properly outfit your ship. That's why you asked if we wanted a ride to…wherever it is you're going. Where are you headed anyway?"

"Wycombe in the Free Marches is where my current shipment will take me," Isabela promptly answered. "After that, who knows? That depends on what jobs are available."

"So how much do you want to charge to take us both to Wycombe?" Hawke asked.

"I think ten sovereigns is a fair price," the pirate promptly replied. "Each."

Fenris boggled at the pirate's audacity to ask for so much. While the coin purse he had received from Zevran felt heavy enough to cover that price, the amount Isabela so blithely asked for seemed exorbitant. And if the steam rising from the mageling's head was any indication, Hawke felt the same way about the pirate's ludicrous answer.

"Ten sovereigns each? We're not made of money," Hawke said heatedly.

"Oh please. I wasn't born yesterday. Zev just paid you two for helping him with that job of his, and given who the target was, it must have been a hefty reward. I know you can afford it," Isabela said.

Hawke rolled her eyes. "Putting that aside, for the price of ten sovereigns, I'd expect a ride all the way to Val Royeaux and on a ship with far more amenities than a mere pirate's brig."

"Is that so?" Isabela leaned back and eyed the little mageling balefully. "Let me explain a couple things to you. One, you don't insult a pirate's ship. It's not a healthy habit, if you know what I mean. And two, sea travel doesn't come cheap. The price I named you was eminently reasonable, a bargain even."

Hawke matched the pirate glare for glare, apparently unconcerned about how Isabela had her effectively cornered in the booth. Fenris tensed ready to leap into action if the raider made the slightest move towards Hawke. "Is that so?" Hawke asked, lifting up her chin in that stubborn manner of hers. "Perhaps we'll shop around then to see if someone is willing to take us for a lower price."

"You won't find one," the pirate claimed boldly.

Hawke's eyes narrowed to thin slits, and she proceeded to call Isabela's bluff. "As the only pair of travelers, of course not. But as a mere addition to a ship that already has cargo…personally I think we'll be able to get passage at a fraction of that cost."

Isabela betrayed no embarrassment at being called out. "So you're going to trust a total stranger with your safety?"

"You're not much more than a stranger to us," was Hawke's response. "And actually you might be worse seeing how we know you through Zev and all."

The pirate huffed loudly and crossed her arms. "Fine. Eight sovereigns."

"Total," Hawke returned.

Isabela grinded her teeth together before replying, "Five. Each."

"With a private room."

"Done," said Isabela. "You drive a hard bargain, kitten," she said, admiration coloring her tone.

The mageling ducked her head, a slight blush to her cheeks. "Zev would have done better," Hawke said.

"Zev would be lucky to walk out of here intact, given how generous I'm feeling towards him," the pirate noted. "But a deal's a deal. I'll take your payment—"

"Tomorrow when we board," Fenris put in quickly. He didn't want to hand over the coin to the pirate only to find that she had left them behind.

Now it was his turn to face Isabela's evil eye. "You can't be serious. It's as Hawke said. I need that coin to finish buying supplies for our journey. Trust me, we don't want to run out of fresh water or food while we're out to sea."

"You're not buying those supplies tonight, are you? We'll meet you at the market tomorrow and hand over our payment then," Hawke suggested.

Isabela rolled her eyes but nevertheless agreed. "Very well. We'll meet up tomorrow. As much fun as it is to look at you darlings—and believe me, you both are absolutely scrumptious—I'm more of a hands on sort of girl. So I'll be taking my leave of you now." She scooted off of the bench and stood up. Isabela stretched once for good measure, her hands reaching towards the ceiling as she emphasized her biggest assets. "Not unless either of you have decided that—"

"No," Fenris said firmly.

"What he said," Hawke added. "So where exactly should we look for you tomorrow at the market?" she asked quickly before the raider could leave.

"Don't. I'll find you. Until then, darlings." Isabela waved her hand at them and strolled off.

* * *

><p>By mutual accord, the pair left the inn they had dinner at and sought a cleaner place to spend the night, seeing how they could now afford it. As usual, Fenris left it up to Hawke to negotiate the price, marveling as always at the deal she came away with.<p>

"So are you certain you're fine with us going on a ship?" she asked once they were in the privacy of their room. "I know you're not very big on them."

"I'm not." Fenris shrugged his shoulders. "But if it gets us out of this country quickly and safely, I can deal with it."

"Well if you're not complaining, then I guess I better not try." Hawke pulled a face. "I just hope I don't get sick the way I did last time. I thought I was going to die."

"And you complained mightily about that fact, I am sure."

Hawke gave him a look. "No. I was too busy revisiting breakfast," she said with a sniff. "It's not an experience that I care to repeat."

His mageling had a point. Being on a ship would be bad enough; it would be exponentially worse if he had to deal with the ship making his mageling sick to the point that she couldn't keep anything down. Fenris supposed that it was just as well that Isabela's next job was taking them only to the city of Wycombe. That was just far enough to get them out of Antiva and into the Free Marches.

"But moving on to a less upsetting topic, how much was in that pouch anyway that Zev tossed at you?" Hawke asked.

"I don't know. I didn't count," Fenris admitted.

"There's no time like the present to remedy that," Hawke said. "After all, when I have to bargain for things, it would really help to know what sort of a budget we're working with."

"And how quickly we will need to start taking odd jobs again," Fenris agreed. He took out the coin purse he had received from the assassin. He took a seat at the table in the center of their room. As Hawke settled into a chair across from him, he untied the string holding the purse closed and then emptied its contents on to the table in front of him.

Gold coin after gold coin poured out and on to the table. Hawke's mouth dropped opened, and Fenris shared in her shock. The assassin must have received a small fortune for killing Brax if the amount of coin he had passed on to them was any indication. To Fenris' eye, there was well over a hundred sovereigns piled up before them and maybe even as much as two. On top of the pile was a small square of folded paper.

"What's that?" Hawke asked. She looked at him for permission and then reached over to pick it up. She carefully unfolded it, her brow furrowing as she looked over the paper. "It's a note from Zev," she said.

Hawke started to hand it over to Fenris, but he motioned for her to keep it. "What does it say?" he asked her.

"Well the first part is kind of to both of us. He writes how this the half of the bounty, just as he promised, and that how we're probably surprised at how well being an assassin pays, much better than being a couple on the run," read out loud as she scanned the page. Her cheeks were tinged pink as she read that last part. "Well of course it does as being on the run really isn't a profession," Hawke muttered half to herself.

"The next paragraph is kind of addressed to me," she said. She crinkled her nose as she read it. "Huh. It looks like Zev finally gave me some advice that you would agree with."

"Is that so?"

"He says that in general, I need to be less trusting. In particular, I should be suspicious of strange elves with tattoos, the only exception of course being a grumpy one named Fenris." Hawke looked up at Fenris to gauge his reaction. Though he kept his face blank, apparently it wasn't blank enough. "You do agree with him, don't you?" she noted lightly.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Yes," he replied simply.

"Thought as much. The next part is directed to you," she said slowly. Her gaze flicked over to him, and she started to hand over the letter once more.

"You can read it," he said quickly. "I doubt the assassin has said anything of consequence."

"Um…well first he tells you that you had best watch out for Isabela if we decide to travel with her. He says that in addition to being handsy, she has sticky fingers so you should take precautions with the coin we've received." The mageling frowned. "I wonder why he said that in the part to you rather than to both of us," she said.

"For all his faults, the assassin is observant. He probably noticed how I always held on to our coin."

"I suppose so. He goes on to say that he wishes you all the luck in the world with keeping me safe because you're going to need that. Hey! Zev's lucky he's not here right now because I would—"

"Send a fireball his way," Fenris finished for her. "I know, Hawke. Undoubtedly the assassin knew that's how you would react as well. He's probably chuckling to himself, thinking of your indignation."

"Not helping here, Fenris," said his mageling. "Then he says that you should know that I am most probably inexperienced in—" Hawke's eyes widened, and her entire face turned beet red. She tossed the note over at Fenris, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Something tells me I don't need to know what he wrote at the end. It was vulgar, wasn't it?"

Hawke nodded her head up and down vigorously.

"I thought as much." Fenris folded the note up and laid it beside the pile of coins. "It was too much to hope that the assassin could write a farewell note without getting vulgar," he said. "But Zevran did pay us our share, like he promised, and so I am grateful for that."

"Yes. It would take us longer to get out of Antiva if we had to hunt for odd jobs to do. Especially if the templars are on the lookout for me, like Isabela said," Hawke added with a shudder.

"On the lookout for us," he corrected her. "You need not worry about having to face the templars alone."

His mageling beamed up at him. And just like that his heart started to beat faster and his breath caught. Hawke was always lovely, but when she was happy, she was downright stunning. It took all of Fenris' significant willpower to push down that thrum of arousal her smiling face never failed to provoke.

He coughed nervously as he sought to regain his balance. "In any event, it appears that we have now seen the last of Zevran."

"Yes. Despite everything, that kind of makes me sad," Hawke said, her mouth twisting into a pout. "I…I don't know what to think of Zev. It's hard for me to think of him as a bad person, but the way he misled us and then how he was so eager to turn over those poor children—even now, it seems at odds with his character."

"Zevran is a survivor, and he is willing to do everything it takes to survive," Fenris noted. "That's why he always intended to bring back the Crows' recruits, even though he knows better than anyone else the hardships that lie before them. I imagine that if his survival depended on it, he would turn us over, whether it be to the templars or slave hunters, without a second thought."

"I guess. I just thought he was better than that," Hawke muttered. "Oh well. I can't be right all the time. I suppose I should look at this as a learning experience." She glanced up at him. "And remember not to trust strange, tattooed elves unless they're named Fenris," she finished with a flourish.

Her words lingered with Fenris long after Hawke had retired for the evening. It was nothing short of a small miracle to his eye that she didn't immediately start questioning whether she was wrong about her assessment of his character as well. He couldn't shake the feeling that it was only a matter of time before she saw how he was full of hate and bitterness. Would she run, he wondered. Not that it really mattered. He had told Hawke that she would never be alone and that she would always have him by her side. He intended to keep his word whether she liked it or not.

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Reading what you all think of this fic is always so much fun. :D


	24. Side Story D

**Promises: Side Story D  
><strong>

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

Author's note: This is the fourth alternate POV that came along in this fic although the second in terms of time frame. I thought I might as well post it here especially since Hawke never made it to the end of Zev's letter.

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><p>My Dear Hawke and Fenris,<p>

For starters, let me warn you, little one, against making such faces. Didn't your mother ever tell you that your face might freeze that way?

But with that piece of advice out of the way, undoubtedly the two of you are impressed by the sum of gold I have handed over. It is half of my take, just as I promised, though I suspect you thought I would not carry out my end of the bargain. Indeed it would have been very easy for me to fool you regarding the size of the payment owed. I have no doubt that you are well and truly surprised about how well being an assassin pays. Better than being a couple on the run, no? Ah but who needs money when they have love? At least that's what poets write, but I myself am the more practical sort.

Hopefully you are not blushing too much as you read, little one. I feel as though I must apologize again for disappointing you so. I am sorry that I am unable to live up to your standards, but I feel I should point out that you are lucky that you have a warrior with you who can. In general, I fear that you are too trusting for your own good. In particular, you should be wary of strange elves with tattoos that approach you. The only exception to this rule would be that grumpy friend of mine, Fenris.

And as for you, my grumpy friend, I have some advice to pass on as well. Isabela has scouts posted all over this city watching for my arrival so undoubtedly she will catch up to you soon if she hasn't already. She is awfully persistent like that. You should know that in addition to being very handsy, Isabela is notorious for having sticky fingers. I suggest you take great care when it comes to safeguarding the coin I have given you from her and her raiders.

Beyond that, I wish you all the luck in the world. You do not have an easy task ahead of you, with trying to keep the little one safe, and so I fear that you will need it. You will also need great patience when dealing with Hawke. Perhaps you haven't figured this out, but the little one is most likely inexperienced when it comes to the ways of love. If I am right—and I usually am about such things—the little one has never lain with a man so you must take the utmost care when you finally give into the deep passion that you've been trying to repress for her. You will need to be gentle and you will need to be slow, but I have every confidence that you will be able to rise to the occasion—multiple times even—and make Hawke's first time a night to remember.

And by the way, little one, if you haven't tossed this aside from embarrassment and are actually still reading this, I would suggest you question why you're the one always doing all the reading and not Fenris. Our grumpy friend will never confess what he believes to be his shortcomings to you.

With my sincerest regards,

Zevran Arainai


	25. Chapter 23

**Promises: Chapter Twenty-Three  
><strong>

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

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><p>They set off for the market the next day after a light breakfast at the inn. Hawke cheerfully asked the serving girl for directions when their food had arrived. Fenris paid close attention to the directions. While Hawke's memory rivaled his own, he had noticed that his mageling's sense of direction was somewhat lacking when she was distracted. Seeing how they were in a new town again, he was willing to bet that the mageling would be distracted today.<p>

Hawke bounced along side of him as he led the two of them to the market. Before they had left their room that morning, Fenris had split the coin they had received from Zevran into three parts. The greatest part of it went into a secure purse that he kept inside of his armor, safe from pickpockets. The remainder was divided evenly between another coin pouch that he kept and one he handed over to Hawke. Hawke was speechless when she first received the pouch but soon admitted that she had never so much as held that amount of coin before. Fenris had given her a wry smile along with instructions for her not to spend it all in one place.

Not that Hawke would do such a thing. His mageling knew they had a long journey ahead of them, and Fenris could count on her to be practical when it came to maintaining a tight rein on her spending.

"This market is smaller than the one in Antiva City," Hawke noted as they reached the first stalls. "Still bigger than Denerim's, but then I'm beginning to think that just about every city is bigger than Denerim."

"I think that's right," drawled a voice from behind them. Fenris and Hawke spun around to see Isabela, who looked slightly worse for wear. "Though not all cities have the charm of Denerim."

Hawke looked suspiciously at the raider. "Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming," she said. "I must be dreaming to hear anyone say anything remotely complimentary towards my homeland. You wouldn't believe how many times I've heard Ferelden insulted since I've left it."

"Let me guess. Barbarians and dog lords, yes?" Isabela asked. At Hawke's nod, she continued. "Don't let it bother you, love. That's mostly merchants talking, and they're a stuffy lot." Then Isabela shifted her gaze over to Fenris before holding out her hand.

He snorted. "You don't believe in wasting time, do you?"

"No, I don't. I want to finish getting my ship provisioned today so I can catch tomorrow's tide. If I miss that, it'll be harder to put out to sea," Isabela explained pleasantly. Fenris handed over the promised coin, deciding that it would be to their advantage to leave town sooner rather than later, especially if the templars started seeking out Hawke again.

"Thank you," said Isabela. She shifted the coins back and forth in her hand, counting them by weight, before putting them into her own coin purse. "Let's be off then. I want to order my supplies early so they'll be delivered before the end of the day. Although," she turned to look critically at Hawke, "I have to ask. Are robes the only thing you have to wear?"

"Yes," Hawke replied.

Isabela turned up her nose. "That's not very smart, not when you're trying to hide from templars. Nothing says 'Catch me, I'm a mage' like a set of robes."

"Well it's what I'm used to," Hawke said. "And we had thought about getting me something else, we just never got around to it."

"That comes from traveling with men. Your robes would have to be falling apart before they think of buying anything new for you." Isabela smirked then. "And with Zev, probably not even then. He is a vulgar bastard. So let's hit the armorer first. I'd offer to loan you something of mine, love, but I'm afraid nothing would fit," the lady pirate added, gesturing towards her chest. Isabela glanced around to get her bearings before marching off, leaving Hawke and Fenris to follow after her.

"Rub it in, why don't you?" fumed Hawke. His mageling seemed to be upset at Isabela's last comment, but Fenris didn't understand why. While Isabela's…assets were significant and she was attractive in her own right, the pirate simply couldn't hold a candle to Hawke.

However, Fenris felt it was important to make one thing crystal clear with his mageling before the raider had a chance to impress the mageling with bad ideas. Fenris felt he was an apt judge of character, and he was willing to bet all the coin they had received from Zevran that Isabela was the assassin's match when it came to being a bad influence. "You're not going to follow the pirate's example and go without pants," he told her firmly.

Hawke shot him a look of disbelief. "As if I could pull that off!" she grumbled. She scrunched her nose up and then stalked off after the pirate, leaving Fenris to trail after her. It was ridiculously easy to follow the pirate's path for Isabela left a line of slack-jawed men in her wake.

They found the pirate at an armorer near the center of the market square. Isabela had already selected a handful of cuirasses and vests, which she thrust over at Hawke. "Here," she said. "Hold these while I pick out some skirts and trousers for you."

Isabela sauntered over to another rack. Fenris stood silently beside Hawke as the two of them watched Isabela make short work of the rack, quickly looking at each piece before pushing it aside to look at the next one. Isabela went through two racks like that before she finally found something that met her standards.

"Now this, I wager, would look lovely on you," Isabela announced as she pulled out a skirt for their appraisal. The skirt was made of thick, leather bands all stitched together. The leather was hardened and looked to be of good quality, but there was one major problem that Fenris saw right away.

"That's short," Hawke told the pirate. "Too short. If I wore that, chances are I would be putting my smalls on display with each step I take."

"Yes, love, that's what I'd call a benefit to this one," Isabela replied, nearly leering at the mageling. Fenris could feel his cheeks turning red. The thought of his mageling walking in front of him, her smallclothes peeking out at him as they went, was not something he wanted to linger on, not in so public place as this. He shifted his weight from one leg to another, trying frantically to drive away such ideas before it became apparent to everyone just what he was thinking about.

"No," said Hawke. "Thank you, but no. It's not for me." Fenris was glad that his mageling was putting her foot down; it saved him the trouble of having to do so himself and go up against two stubborn females, especially when he was still trying to clear his head of the dirty images that had invaded it.

"Very well. Though for someone so young, you really should live a little." Isabela held the skirt up against her legs and considered it. "Hmm…maybe I'll get it for myself. What do you think, Fenris?"

Fenris could feel his blush deepened as the lady pirate's innocent question caused his mageling to focus on him while he was so discomforted. "Do as you wish," he said quickly, ducking his head to avoid Hawke's eyes.

"Why not?" the mageling snapped, her voice sounding uncharacteristically irritated. "It certainly would cover more than your current outfit does now."

"Oh, good point. Thanks for pointing that out, love," Isabela said airily as she returned the skirt to its place. "Now how about this one?" she asked, showing them another skirt that was almost as bad as the first.

After fifteen minutes of such nonsense, Fenris was wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole. That would certainly be preferable to standing in the little shop and constantly having to find something to hide behind so he could conceal his reactions to the images swarming his mind of Hawke wearing the different skimpy pieces of armor that the lady pirate was showing them. Fenris had lost count the number of times he wished Isabela to the void, cursing the fact that he had ever agreed to let the blasted pirate suggest suitable pieces of light armor for Hawke. Clearly what Isabela thought was suitable wasn't the same as him.

Thankfully his mageling finally got fed up one of the more scanty pieces Isabela had held up for them to exam. "Oh, enough of this," Hawke mumbled angrily. "We're never going to get anywhere. I'll pick my own damn armor." She pushed forward crossly and selected several pieces in short order.

"I think there are a few items there that are a bit much for you to handle," Isabela noted, being helpful for once. She removed them from Hawke's grasp and then pushed a set of trousers at the mageling. "Here. I think these will be perfect for you. You should wear it with this one vest I picked…ah this one here! Try this pairing on first."

Hawke shot her a wary glance. She accepted the pirate's advice but not before picking up a white shirt to wear under the vest. The mageling retreated to a corner of the shop that had been curtained off to change into the set of light armor. When she stepped out, Fenris' heart just about stopped.

Calling Hawke beautiful didn't do her justice. She was breathtaking, pure and simple, and Fenris could feel his blood rushing south. Though the modest blouse she had chosen concealed her skin, the tight vest left nothing to the imagination. It acted as a corset, emphasizing the fullness of her breasts.

"So what do you think?" the mageling asked, doing a little twirl before them so they could get the full effect. The trousers were tight, and the way they hugged the curve of her ass bordered on obscene.

"I like it very much. No need to try anything else on, love. We're getting it," Isabela told her.

Hawke ignored the lady pirate in favor of Fenris. She quirked an eyebrow up at him. "Well?" she asked, tapping her foot impatiently.

Fenris found that he had no words to say. He gulped nervously, searching for something appropriate to say but came up short.

"No worries there, kitten. Fenris likes it too," Isabela answered for him. She glanced knowingly down at him and then tilted her head towards him, so close that her lips nearly brushed against his ear. "If you even to deny just how much you appreciate it," she whispered to him, "I'll make sure you'll regret it."

Fenris had no doubt that the lady pirate would live up to her threat. So it was that he motioned Hawke towards the shopkeeper. His mageling seemed less than pleased by this turn of events. She had no chance to protest though for the lady pirate darted past her to pick up her discarded mage robes and then usher over to the shopkeeper. Fenris took out his coin pouch and paid the man, torn between feeling that it was money well spent and wondering just how he was going to survive the rest of the day having to look at Hawke wearing that outfit.

* * *

><p>The day had been long and torturous for Fenris after their visit to the armorer. He had decided to stay behind the two women, thinking that was the best way to conceal the effect that Hawke's new armor had on him, only to find that he was mesmerized by the swaying of her ass as she walked before him. It was just as well that Isabela and Hawke didn't need his help for dealing with the merchants as he had trouble focusing on anything aside from Hawke's curves.<p>

After they had finished purchasing the provisions Isabela needed for their journey, the lady pirate insisted they spend the night on her ship. "We're leaving early because we don't want to miss the morning tide," she told them.

Isabela's ship was a sturdy thing and looked to have ridden out many a storm. Isabela gave them a brief tour so that they would know where the galley was as well as how to get up on deck. It took longer than Fenris would have liked though for he was conscious of the stares that Hawke was attracting from all of the sailors. He was glad when the lady pirate finally showed them to the private room Hawke had bargained for, near the center of the ship.

"My room is just next door," she said. "If you need a hand with anything later," she winked at Fenris, "anything at all, feel free to come over. That goes for you too, kitten. Now I better go make sure that my men are on task, given all the recent distractions."

Hawke huffed angrily as Isabela waved good bye to and then stepped inside their room. "Well at least it's clean," she sniffed haughtily as she gave the room a once over. "That's more than what I was expecting."

That remark was most unlike Hawke. His mageling was nothing if not perennially cheerful and often tried too hard to look at the bright side of things. "Are you all right?" he came out and asked her.

"Why wouldn't I be?" was Hawke's surly reply. Fenris merely gave her a look, telling her without words that she wasn't fooling him.

Hawke heaved a sigh and then wandered over to flop on to one of the beds. "It's nothing, really. Well nothing serious. I'm just not…not looking forward to this trip, that's all."

"I see," said Fenris, which he did. From the way Hawke refused to meet his eyes, he knew that she wasn't being entirely forthcoming with him. Hawke was also chewing on her lower lip, a sign that she was rather upset about something. His mageling had been perfectly cheerful at breakfast this morning, and her mood had only darkened during their time at the market with Isabela.

Fenris racked his memory, trying to recall the incident that might have set Hawke off. For the life of him, he couldn't figure it out. Isabela never had the chance to be alone with Hawke. In fact, the lady pirate had always been by Fenris' side, and so he would have heard if she had said anything upsetting to his mageling. Fenris bit back a growl of frustration and gave up trying to figure out why Hawke was moody. With any luck, Hawke would be back to her normal self by morning. He silently promised himself to monitor Hawke's interactions with Isabela more carefully in the future so he could prevent the lady pirate from distressing his mageling again.

Not knowing what else to say, Fenris walked over to the other bed in the room. After removing a few items from his pack, he placed it down on the floor beside the bed and frowned. There was no lock on the door, and so anyone could enter their room at any time. He scanned the room, looking for a place that they could hide their valuables.

"Looking for a hiding place?" Hawke asked. Fenris looked up to see that she too had removed a few items for the night and was now looking for somewhere to stow her bag. "I don't think you'll find one, but I have a solution." She motioned for Fenris to store his pack in a chest towards the back of the room. She placed her pack beside his in the chest. He watched as his mageling first cast a protective ward over the packs to seal them off followed by two different types of hexes. He recognized one hex as a misdirection hex, but the other he hadn't ever seen before.

"There!" she said when she was finished. "I didn't sense any mages on board so there's no one who can break the spell. And if anyone is misfortunate enough to get past the misdirection hex…well let's just say that person will have the word 'thief' written all over his face," she added with a wicked grin. "Just don't try to get to them without me lifting the spells first, okay?"

"I wouldn't be so foolish as to try," he told her.

"True that. That was a rather obvious thing to say, wasn't it? Sorry," she said. Hawke looked sideways, and her cheeks were tinged with pink. "Would you mind turning around? I'd like to change clothes for bed."

Both of Fenris' eyebrows shot up at that remark. Hawke had never turned in for bed early. She was more of the type to stay up late, talking the night away. "Already?" he asked. "We haven't even had dinner yet."

"I'm not that hungry," she claimed. "I find that I'm actually more tired than hungry so I think I had best go to sleep. Now if you don't mind?" Hawke made a gesture with her hand and shot him a pleading look. The mageling had made up her mind, and Fenris knew better than to try and change it. He did his best to keep his mind blank, trying not to think about the fact that Hawke was undressing in the same room that he was in. Finally after what seemed to be an eternity passed, Hawke announced that she was done.

The mageling hopped into bed, kicking the covers aside. "Just because I'm going to sleep early doesn't mean you have to do the same," she told him. "Go ahead and go to dinner if you're hungry. You should make more friends."

Fenris snorted at the idea of him going to dinner alone, instead choosing to follow Hawke's example and go to bed. He didn't feel at home with crowds, and he didn't feel all that confident when it came to interacting with strangers. He supposed that was part and parcel of being a slave for so long; as a slave, he never had to worry about such things. His only concern was keeping the cruel magister who owned him alive and happy.

As for the concept of him making friends—frankly Fenris had no interest in doing so. He wasn't entirely sure that he was deserving of having friends. That was all right with him. He didn't need a friend, someone who would at best be a liability and at worst would betray him. Experience had taught Fenris that it was best to rely upon only himself, and that was a tenet he had followed up until he met Hawke.

Hawke pretty much broke every rule he had. Fenris didn't trust mages, but he trusted Hawke. He didn't let anyone get close to him, but he needed to stay close to Hawke. He had no real explanation for why Hawke was such an exception, just that she was special.

Of course, if he thought about it, he could break it down further than that. Hawke was the first mage he had met who had a healthy fear of what she could become. Most mages brushed aside the fact that they could fall prey to a demon and become an abomination, harming all those around them. The select few who didn't forget that fact tended to let their fear rule them. Hawke, however, met that fear head on and somehow that fear strengthened her control and resolve. The mageling was truly remarkable.

As for Hawke getting close to him…well his mageling was adorable. She was also innocent in a way that made him want to protect her. Hawke had no concept of the depravities to which her kind could seek, and frankly Fenris had no wish to educate her on such. It was enough to know that Hawke would never stoop to using blood magic—actually it was more than that. If Hawke ever made such a mistake, then Fenris would keep his promise from so long ago and put an end to her. Thankfully he had no fear that would ever happen. Fenris trusted Hawke in a way he trusted no one else. He didn't have to worry; she would do the right thing.

One thing he did worry about was her bad mood earlier today when they arrived in their cabin. It had passed quickly enough, but he hated seeing Hawke be so pessimistic. His mageling was naturally a bright and cheerful girl, not a bitter one. It bothered him that he didn't know the root cause of her snippiness today.

Perhaps he was overthinking things. Hawke had been through a lot this past week. Not only had they finally put an end to Brax and his slaving ring, they also found out the truth about Zevran. It was a lot to digest. Fenris supposed that Hawke had lost a bit of her innocence in Antiva. Certainly he couldn't see her ever being so trusting of strangers ever again. While that thought kind of made him sad, he thought that in the end, it would be good for Hawke. It was one thing to think the best of people; it was another to rely upon such a notion.

Yes, there was both good and bad aspects to their stay in Antiva. Their sojourn in the country was almost at an end, but Fenris didn't really care where they would wind up next. All that really mattered was that he had his mageling with him, and that they were both safe from any and all pursuers.

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed. I sound like a broken record, but seriously it would be so much harder to wriite a long fic like this without encouragement. :D


	26. Chapter 24

**Promises: Chapter Twenty-Four  
><strong>

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

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><p>Fenris woke up with a start, trying to shake the feeling that someone was staring at him. He scanned the room but didn't see anyone. Flicking his gaze over to Hawke, he saw that his mageling was sitting cross-legged on her bed and staring straight at him.<p>

"Finally!" she exclaimed, leaping to her feet. "I was wondering when you would get up. I want to go for breakfast and so I was thinking of waking you, but I didn't know how." She gave him a shy grin. "Something tells me that pouring a cold bucket of water over you wouldn't end so well for me. Which is too bad because that's how Beth and I always woke up Carver when he tried to have a lie in, the lazy git."

"I wouldn't suggest trying that," he said. He repressed a shudder as unbidden images rose in his head of what his reaction would have been to such a surprise. While he would never hurt his mageling on purpose, instincts were instincts, and he hadn't stayed alive so long by taking time to react to surprises. If Hawke did that to him, he would likely to be well on his way to ripping out her heart before he realized what was happening.

His mageling rolled her eyes at him. "Please. Give me some credit. I wouldn't do that," she said. "I do have some sense, you know."

Fenris blinked, suddenly wary that perhaps he had upset Hawke with his comment. Hawke normally wasn't easily insulted but he remembered the mood she had been in last night. Before he could try and apologize, however, Hawke leapt up from her seat. "In addition to having common sense, I also have an enormous appetite at the moment," she told him. "How about you get up and then we find something to eat? I'm starving."

"That's not surprising. You didn't eat dinner last night," he grumbled. Neither did he, and so he was hungry as well. The unpleasant sensation of his stomach being empty was not something he had dealt with for a while. As a slave, he had been used to not having regular meals. Eating had also not always on the schedule when he had been on the run on his own due to lack of time, lack of money, or both. That changed once Hawke had decided to tag along with him. His mageling always made time for meals, and what was more, with her along, food was much more affordable. He had been exasperated with Hawke the first time she had stopped him from raiding a hard, but such exasperation had faded with time, helped by the fact that Hawke was able to get food at bargains that he had never dreamed of.

"Yes, well, are you trying to tell me that you're not hungry? Because it didn't escape my notice that you didn't eat last night too." She shot him a sideways glance, and he could see the wheels turning in her head. "You shouldn't be afraid to mingle without me," she told him.

"I'm not," he promptly replied. "It's just that I don't care to mingle, as you put it, with strangers."

"You're never going to make more friends that way, Fenris."

Fenris grunted in response, not wanting to get in an argument with Hawke first thing in the morning. He didn't particularly want to make any friends for he didn't quite see the point of them. It wasn't as though he lacked for companionship after all; he had Hawke and she was all that he needed.

"That doesn't sound like you agree with me," Hawke said, interrupting his thoughts.

He shrugged his shoulders in response, but he could tell that didn't satisfy his mageling either by the way she crossed her arms and tapped her foot. A thought occurred to him, and he hid a grin. It was time to turn the tables on Hawke. "You know you didn't have to wait for me," he pointed out. "If you were starving, you could have gone to the galley by yourself."

A faint tinge of red appeared across Hawke's face. "Um…yes, well about that," she mumbled. She looked down and away from him, twirling her fingers in front of her. "This is a little embarrassing to admit, but I'm afraid I don't know where the galley is. I wasn't exactly paying attention yesterday when Isabela showed us."

Both of Fenris' eyebrows shot up at that admission. Hawke must have been out of it indeed not to have remembered where the galley was. There actually wasn't all that much to Isabela's ship below decks. The lowest level of the ship was reserved for cargo, plain and simple. The middle level that they were on housed the living spaces. Isabela had her own cabin, being captain of the ship, and there were two other private cabins, including the one that Hawke and Fenris were in. The sailors themselves lived in a large, common room that Fenris thought resembled barracks while the galley was across from there. The remaining space on the middle level held all of the supplies the ship would use on its journey.

Of course, Hawke could have always ventured out on her and simply have asked for directions. That would have been very like his mageling. However, he decided not to press the issue for despite his teasing of her, Fenris would rather have Hawke wait for him than to go on by herself.

"Very well. I'll be ready shortly." He got up off the bed and then pulled his armor out from where he had stuffed it below the bed last night. Though theoretically they would have no one to fight, seeing how they were on a ship that was headed out to sea, he still wanted to be prepared for contingencies. His eyes drifted over to Hawke, and he noted that she was dressed in mage robes rather than the tempting outfit of the day before.

Fenris didn't know to be relieved or disappointed about that.

Relief took precedence, however, once they had exited their room. Fenris noticed more than one sailor's eyes drifting over to Hawke and lingering on the mageling's form. His fingers twitched with the urge to do something about such stares, especially when he remembered all the looks she garnered during the tour Isabela gave them yesterday.

Thankfully when they arrived at the galley, it was empty. Hawke didn't share his relief. "Oh no," she cried. "Don't tell me we missed breakfast."

"All right then. I won't." Both Fenris and Hawke turned to look at who had spoken. A sailor with a black patch over one eye was sitting towards the back of the room. From the splotches on the man's tunic, Fenris hazarded that he was the ship's cook. The man's haphazard appearance didn't inspire much confidence in his ability as a chef, but then that didn't really matter to Fenris as he wasn't a picky eater. He ate food that Hawke cooked after all.

Hawke sighed. "Great. So there's nothing to eat. What time are meals served on this ship? Isabela never told us. If I had known breakfast was so early, I would have woken Fenris up somehow."

The man shrugged his shoulders. "Breakfast normally starts at the crack of down, but the captain wanted the men up earlier today to make sure everything's in place to catch the morning tide. And I never said that there's nothing to eat. There's plenty of porridge if you're hungry." He jerked a thumb behind him, pointing out a large pot that sat on the last table in the room. There were a few bowls and spoons laid out beside the pot, and it was clear that was all that remained from whatever breakfast had been served.

Hawke perked up at the word 'porridge' and she trotted over to the pot, with Fenris close on her heels. She squealed in excitement when she reached the pot. Peering over her shoulder, Fenris couldn't see why Hawke was so excited. Frankly the porridge was grey and unappetizing, and was making him reconsider if he really wanted to eat breakfast.

"Oh my!" Hawke chirped. "That's a proper Fereldan porridge, isn't it? Icky and sticky to keep your insides warm during winter."

"Aye, that it is," replied the man. "So you're Fereldan too? My name's Bart."

"Nice to meet you, Bart," Hawke said. She picked up a bowl and began scooping out a generous size serving for herself as Fenris continued his debate on the merits of eating the gruel before him. "My name is Hawke, and this is—"

"Fenris, your loyal elven bodyguard," Bart finished for her. "I already know all about you as does the rest of the ship. You'll find that sailors gossip worse than a flock of old hens."

"Oh dear. I wonder what sort of stories are already floating around about us." Hawke handed off the overly-full bowl to Fenris and started filling up another one. Fenris checked a sigh. It looked like his decision was made for him. He would indeed be partaking of the Fereldan gruel that Hawke apparently loved.

The gruel was improved, Fenris found, by the bits of dried apples that Hawke was able to charm the ship's cook into giving them. He was also happy to see that in addition to ale, there was a pitcher of fresh water available for drinking. The water had several large slices lemons added to it, which was an old trick to ward off disease according to Bart. Hawke took a seat across from the ship's cook, making it easy for her to strike up a conversation with him.

"So tell me, what sort of rumors have been spreading about the ship in the short time since we've arrived," she asked boldly.

"Oh the usual sort. The most common one is that you're the daughter of a noble family who was disowned after being seduced by the captain, with only one loyal servant left by your side."

Hawke snorted at that. "Hardly. I don't think I'm Isabela's type."

"Let me give you a piece of advice. The captain insists on her title when we're on the ship. Claims that way no one ever forgets whose in charge. And as for your not being her type—everyone who's mildly attractive is her type so long as they don't work for her."

Fenris filed that bit of information for use later. Hawke continued to press Bart for more examples of what people were saying about him. Fenris wound up being rather taken aback about how many stories had been made up about the pair of them in such a short period of time. Most of the stories pegged Hawke as being a noble on the run from something while casting him as in the role of bodyguard. He picked at his food while the other two talked. The gruel wasn't as bad as he had feared. While it was indeed sticky, it was thankfully not icky as Hawke had described it.

"But it's clear to me that none of those tales are true since you're from Ferelden," Bart concluded after he had finished describing yet another mad tale about them.

"That's right. I'm from Lothering, actually. You probably haven't heard of it," Hawke replied.

"From Lothering? I was there once. Not much to see," said Bart.

Hawke nodded her head. "I know. We're in the middle of nowhere. Worse, we're right up next to the Wilds. Still the farmland is good there, and we're big enough to rate our own Chantry. That's more than what some towns can boast of."

"True that. Though I was never comfortable in Lothering, and I was only there for all of a day. They say that there's an old witch living in those Wilds of yours."

"Oh the Wilds belong to no one," Hawke said airily in between bites of food. "As for witches…well you've got me there. We heard the same stories of course. My father is not a superstitious man. The fact that he gave them credence makes me think that there is something to those tales."

"Unlike the ones about the two of you. The other men will be so disappointed when they've learned that they've all guessed wrong," said Bart.

"I'm honestly surprised that you all found us that interesting. Surely Isabela—sorry Captain Isabela—has had passengers on board before."

"Yes, but you're the most memorable we've had in a long time." Bart shot a glance over at Fenris. "And I also think you're the…youngest passenger we've ever had," he added.

Fenris caught the man's meaning. The sailors had been busy gossiping because Hawke was a lovely girl. From Bart's earlier comments, it appeared that Isabela did not sleep with her crew which meant that left Hawke as the only available female on board. Suddenly Fenris was very glad that Hawke hadn't left him behind to seek out the galley on her own. He would have to keep a very close on eye on her to make sure that no one tried to take advantage of her innocence.

Bart glanced over at the lone clock in the room. "Time to ring the bells almost," he noted clinically. He turned his attention back to the pair. "We'll be departing soon. I suggest the two of you head up on deck. It'll be the last time you see land for awhile," he told them.

"Oh? Let's go then," Hawke said, getting up from her seat. "We can't miss this."

Fenris wasn't too keen on the prospect of letting his mageling wander about on deck. However, he couldn't tell her no, not when she was practically bouncing with excitement. He got up from her seat and showed her how to get up on deck. Thankfully they didn't attract too much attention for all of the sailors were too busy following Isabela's orders. The lady pirate stood near the ship's wheel, packing back and forth as she kept an eye on the activity. Her gaze flickered over them, and she waved them to one side of the ship, where they wouldn't be in the way.

Hawke grasped the railing of the ship as the anchor was lifted and they cast off. "And that's the end of our adventures in Antiva," she said almost wistfully.

"Yes," he said, "and on to the Free Marches."

"The Free Marches won't be like Antiva," Hawke stated. "My mum's from Kirkwall so I know a little about them. They're not a single state, more like a loose confederation of cities. Kind of what Ferelden used to be, I imagine."

Fenris already knew all of that, but he saw no reason to tell Hawke as much. His mageling liked to chat, especially when she was feeling nervous, and he didn't mind listening to her. He was rather fond of the sound of her voice, but then if he was being truth with himself, he was very fond of her—and even that might not be going far enough.

"Kirkwall's at the southern edge of the Free Marches though, but that's just as well seeing how many templars are there. Wycombe…Wycombe is…." Hawke closed her eyes as though to mentally picture a map. "On the coast, of course, but what's more than that, it's at the mouth of the Minanter. That probably makes it a good port town." She crinkled her nose. "Though hopefully not as stinky as Antiva City."

Fenris allowed himself a small shudder. "I doubt anything could smell as bad as that place."

"Indeed. Though I have to wonder sometimes if its inhabitants' despair adds to the stench," Hawke said, giving Fenris a start. It was very uncharacteristic of his mageling to say something like that.

"That…doesn't sound like something you would normally say," he told her cautiously.

Hawke turned towards him, letting go of the rail. She hung her head, not meeting his eyes. "No, it isn't. But I've been thinking…you must think that I'm such a fool, wanting to return those children to their parents and all when their parents were the ones who sold them to the Crows. It's hard for me to wrap my mind around that—how can a parent care so little for their child?"

"You were blessed with loving parents," Fenris noted.

"That I was indeed. I didn't really realize just how lucky I was until recently. Father and Mother would have done anything to keep us safe and happy. I mean, it would have been so much easier for them if they had just dropped me off at the Circle."

"But your father is a mage," said Fenris.

"Yes, well, obviously Mother would have had to do the dropping off. It still must have been difficult for both of them, especially Father. He had to teach me how to control my magic while also keeping food on our table and a roof over our heads." Her breath caught, and Fenris winced. He knew that sound. It meant that his mageling was on the verge of tears.

"I feel bad now," she said in a small voice. "There was a time when I was angry at Father for not chasing after me. But there must have been some reason why he couldn't, and I'm sure he beats himself up each day over not being able to find me."

"We could try to find them," Fenris suggested.

"Where would we start looking? Ferelden is a large country, and knowing Father, he probably picked another backwater to relocate our family to," said Hawke.

"I imagine we might run into other Fereldans in our journeys, like Bart," said Fenris. He didn't like this mood of Hawke's. His mageling was supposed to be bright and cheerful, not sad and depressed. "It can't hurt to ask if they've heard of your family."

"That's kind of like looking for a needle in a haystack," she muttered. "Although—" Her forehead creased, and Fenris could tell she had thought of something.

"Although what?" he prodded her.

"I told you Mother is from Kirkwall, right? She actually still has family there, my uncle Gamlen."

"I see. Would your uncle know where your family is?"

"Maybe. Mother writes to him, but not all that often. So like I said, maybe." Hawke chewed her lower lip. "I don't know if I want to go to Kirkwall though. Like I said, there are a lot of templars there. Maybe we can try what you said first. You know travel towards Kirkwall and see if we're lucky enough to run into someone who has heard of my family. And if we're not—well that's when we'll decide whether to venture into the lion's den or not. I'm not too eager for another run-in with templars at the moment."

Fenris nodded his head. He didn't want to have to deal with templars again either, but he knew that it was inevitable just as it was inevitable that Danarius would send more slave hunters after him. They would have to be careful, and they would have to watch each other's backs. He was suddenly grateful towards whatever deity had chosen to send Hawke his way. Before he had met Hawke, he had always been alone and there had been no one he could rely on. His life had changed so much because she was in it, and he was much better for it.

"We can do that," he said, his voice rough with emotion. He stepped closer to her, not wanting anyone else to hear his next words, so that they were practically toe to toe. "And if the templars do hound your steps…you won't have to deal with them on your own. You'll have me. For as long as you want," he told her. _And even longer_, he added in his head.

Hawke lifted her chin, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Fenris! That's…that's…." Hawke choked on her words. For a moment, Fenris was afraid that she was going to start crying but then she smiled at him and his fear was ended. He was struck by her simple beauty. His eyes lingered on the fullness of her lips, and he couldn't help but wonder how they would taste. They were so close that all he needed to do to kiss was bend his head, and then his lips would be meeting hers. The thought was tempting—too tempting—and he desperately fought for control, not wanting to scare her by showering her with unwanted affection.

But then a thought rose up from the depths of his heart—_maybe she wanted him too._

It was a thrilling idea, to think that Hawke was attracted to him the way he was to her, but one he had no evidence for. Sure Hawke had stuck to his side, despite how unpleasant he had been towards her in the beginning, but that didn't mean anything. She also had turned down all the advances she had received, but all that meant was she wasn't interested in anyone they had met so far. Of course, there was also that brilliant smile of hers, the one that never failed to make him hard and that she used only for him and—

Void take him, he couldn't resist the temptation to kiss her any longer. He bent his head down but then stopped when Hawke suddenly turned a sickening shade of green.

Fenris could only watch in horror as his mageling turned back to the rail and vomited, spewing the contents of her stomach into the sea. "Andraste's ass, have her face downwind!" Isabela shouted from her post.

He checked a sigh as he stepped forward to turn Hawke appropriately. Fenris remained by Hawke's side while his mageling proved that her fears of being sick on board were well justified.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: <strong>Isn't that the perfect place to stop? Anyway my thanks goes out to everyone who left reviews. Reading them was one of the best parts of my day. :D


	27. Chapter 25

**Promises: Chapter Twenty-Five  
><strong>

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

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><p>Fenris stayed with Hawke above deck for what seemed to be hours. Although she had longed emptied the contents of her stomach, she was still suffering from bouts of dry heaves.<p>

Isabela stopped by once and looked at the mageling with a critical eye. "The breeze isn't doing anything for her, is it," she remarked.

"No, it's not," Fenris said dryly. If the lady pirate had nothing useful to add, he would rather that she go away. He had not forgotten that Isabela must have done something to Hawke that made his mageling so upset the night before.

"Pity. It usually does help most." Isabela sighed. "Well keep watching over her. Later when the deck is clearer, you should take her back to your room and let her lie down. That should help." Then the pirate frowned. "And Maker's breath, would you hold on to her? We wouldn't want her to fall over the rail and into the sea!"

Fenris flushed at that admonition. It hadn't even occurred to him that his mageling might find a way to topple over the rail. Hawke wasn't clumsy by any definition of the word, but he wasn't about to take chances with her safety. He stepped forward to hold her, only wincing slightly as he placed his hands around her waist, unused to such direct contact with his mageling. Normally he had his gauntlets as a layer of protection between them, but he hadn't bothered with them when they left their room this morning because they would only get in the way of breakfast. In Tevinter, a slave who presumed to lay his filthy hands upon a magister would be punished. This wasn't Tevinter and Hawke was nothing like a magister, but still Fenris couldn't quite suppress his wince as he laid his bare hands upon his mageling for the first time.

Hawke was warm to his touch, something he never appreciated before seeing how he had kept a layer of cold steel between them. His lyrium brands briefly sang in response to her magic, but it was a pleasant sensation, one that was welcoming and warm. Feeling emboldened, Fenris lifted a hand up so he first could push her hair off of her face and then wipe the sweat from her brow. He didn't know how to explain it but somehow it felt right for him to be able to touch her, to keep her so close to him. Hawke belonged with him and he belonged with her, as if they were two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together.

Fenris continued to support his mageling, holding her up until her heaves came to an end and she was left trembling in his arms. "Do you feel well enough to go back to our room?" he asked her softly. Hawke gave him the briefest of nods and the slightest of smiles. His mageling wasn't feeling well, but she was game to make the journey back to her bed.

Fenris wrapped an arm around Hawke and allowed her to rest her head against his shoulder as they walked across the deck. It was slow going, and Fenris could tell that his mageling was still very weak from her bout of vomiting. The deck was a bustle of activity, but thankfully the sailors gave them a wide berth.

There was one person, however, who wasn't grateful for such thoughtfulness. "Andraste's ass, elf!" Isabela all but screamed at him. "Pick her up so you can get her off of the deck and out of our way! We're trying to work here."

Fenris flushed at the lady pirate's words. He wasn't sure if it was a good idea for him to pick Hawke up—for one, it might upset her stomach again and for another, the thought of him carrying her to bed inspired very naughty images inside of his head—but Isabela had a point. So with fluid grace, he lifted Hawke up and carried her, cradling her in his arms. For a moment, he thought Hawke was going to be sick again but then she smiled up at him before tucking her head under his chin and closing her eyes.

He carefully made his way below deck and to their cabin, doing his best not to disturb Hawke. Once they were inside their room, he gingerly set Hawke down upon her bed. Fenris didn't know much about taking care of someone who was sick, but he knew enough to realize that Hawke would be extremely weak because she had thrown up her entire breakfast. What was more, she had not eaten dinner the night before. Though now was not the time to be offering food, Hawke would need to eat later that day and somehow, some way, keep the food down.

The elven warrior remained by the mageling's side for the rest of the day, only leaving to collect dinner from the kitchen. While Fenris had taken a bowl of stew for him, he worried that it was too rich for Hawke's delicate stomach. Instead he gave her a few crackers along with a glass of water, but even that proved to be too much for her. Fortunately Fenris recognized the warning signs as Hawke turned that awful shade of green and he hooked over a bucket with his foot, pushing it under her just in the nick of time. He only gave her water for the rest of the evening. Throughout the night, Hawke took the smallest of sips from the glass, but she was able to keep that much down. Fenris felt relieved; at least he didn't have to worry about his mageling becoming dehydrated.

Hawke's condition did not improve quickly. She wasn't able to eat anything aside from crackers the next day, her face twisting with nausea when Fenris offered her some of the Fereldan porridge that the ship's cook had made again. The mageling found it to be nigh impossible for her to move around without upsetting her stomach, and so she remained bedridden. It was deathly dull to be confined to their room all day but Fenris gladly spent it with her, not wanting to leave her alone, especially not when she was ill.

However, Hawke slept for most of each day, leaving Fenris to his own devices. He missed her constant chatter something fierce. There were only so many times he could polish his armor or make sure that the edge of his sword was sharp. Whenever that got old, Fenris would mentally berate himself for not listening to his mageling. Hawke had warned him about how sick she had been the last time she had been on a boat—she had even gone as far to say that she thought she was going to die—but he hadn't paid attention to her qualms. If he had, he would have found another way to sneak them out of Antiva. Now Hawke was paying the price for his neglect.

Three days after they had left Antiva, the only thing Hawke was to keep down on a regular basis was dry toast. Fenris was beginning to worry anew with how pale and wan his mageling was looking. He trudged over to the galley to fetch himself a proper dinner while reviewing what food he could possibly bring back to Hawke. He picked up a small plate of food and then wandered over to a pot of soup. He peered into the pot, trying to discern its contents so he could figure out whether it would be good for Hawke or not.

"I haven't seen the young lady you were with lately." Taken off guard, Fenris spun around to see that Bart had approached him. "Is she feeling all right?"

Fenris eyed the cook suspiciously but it seemed as though the man was genuinely concerned about the mageling. "She's not been feeling well," Fenris said. "She hasn't…adjusted well to being on a ship."

The man's eyes lit up. "Is that so? Why didn't you tell me before? Wait here!" he commanded as he scurried back in the kitchen. He returned a few moments later, holding a few small packets in his hand. "Ginger tea," Bart said as he pressed the packets into Fenris' hand. "An old Rivaini folk cure for seasickness. Don't give me that look. I don't trust folk cures, particularly not Rivaini ones as a rule, but this one works."

Though Fenris had his doubts, he was willing to try almost anything to help Hawke get better. "Very well," he said. He looked down at the food he had. Obviously he would need to carry back a mug of hot water, but he wasn't sure how he would manage to do so.

The ship's cook evidently had spotted that problem too. Bart ducked into the kitchen again and came back holding not only a mug of steaming hot water but a tray as well. Fenris piled his food along with the mug upon the tray, and then also took a bowl of soup for Hawke in case the tea was enough to help her keep it down.

The tea worked as Bart had advertised. Hawke only ate a few spoonfuls of soup, but Fenris was grateful to see her eating something aside from crackers and bread. The next morning, she was able to eat half a bowl of that awful Fereldan porridge with another mug of ginger tea in her. The day after that, Hawke felt strong enough to take down the protections she had layered over their packs, allowing Fenris to retrieve a few items from them, before she put the wards and hexes up again.

The pair soon fell into a routine. Whenever Hawke started to feel a twinge of nausea, she would alert Fenris and he would head over to the galley to fetch another mug of tea for her. It took several days, but eventually Fenris had his cheerful mageling back again, albeit one who moved much more slowly than usual.

"I'm sorry," she told him one evening as he sat and watched as she ate.

He tilted his head. "For what?"

"For being such a pain. It must not be any fun, being cooped up in here with me," she said. Hawke chewed her lower lip. "If you want, why don't you go eat dinner with everyone else tonight? I'll be all right by myself."

Fenris shook his head, dismissing that thought. "No," he said. "I don't want to leave you alone."

"But—" Hawke started to protest.

"But nothing," Fenris said, silencing her. "It is fine, Hawke." His mageling looked as though she didn't believe him, and he needed to make her understand that he didn't need anyone but her. "I prefer to remain by your side," he said. He could feel a flush creeping up his ears but he persisted. "It is…comforting to be with you. I don't want to"—_be with anyone else_, was how he felt but didn't want to scare her off—"that is, I would rather not be alone in a crowd of sailors."

Hawke's eyes softened at those words. She reached for his hand, which he gladly relinquished to her. "Oh Fenris. I know. It's hard being the only one different in the crowd. I'm just worried that you'll go mad, sitting here with nothing to do."

"I have you to talk to," he replied. "That isn't nothing."

She beamed at him, and suddenly Fenris could begin to believe that everything was going to be all right.

* * *

><p>After about a week, Hawke had recovered enough that she was able to roam about the ship once more with her faithful elf ever by her side. She was still prone to bouts of nausea, however, and so the pair spent most of their time in the kitchen with Bart. Fenris was content to let her chatter with the ship's cook about the things they missed most about Ferelden. However there came a time when Hawke offered to help Bart prepare a meal, and that was when Fenris knew he had to find somewhere else for them to go.<p>

"I'm bored. Deathly so," Hawke said bluntly. "I don't suppose you could use a helping hand with dinner, could you?"

Fenris was quick to intervene. "How about we go on deck?" he said before the cook could reply. "You haven't seen the sun in ages. I think it would be good for you."

Hawke pulled a face at his suggestion. "Hmm…not sure if I want to do that. I don't exactly have fond memories of the last time I went up on deck."

"All the more reason for you to go then," said Bart. "You can't have your only memory being a bad one." He made a shooing motion with his hands. "Go on then. You've finally got your sea legs under you. It's time to use them."

Fenris was grateful for the unexpected support. With two against one, it was difficult for Hawke to dig her heels in and insist on remaining to help with dinner. His little mageling pouted as they exited the galley, but she perked up a bit after Bart offered to show her how to cook his famous potato soup when he made it for dinner tomorrow.

That was not something Fenris was looking forward to though Hawke's cooking had improved. Still that was a worry for another day. He led Hawke up the stairs and out the door and on to the deck for the ship for the first time since their departure.

"Oh! The breeze feels nice!" Hawke said. She tilted back her head and took a deep breath. "Now that I'm up here I can tell that I've missed the fresh air."

"Indeed." Fenris felt the same. Though the smell of seawater wasn't his favorite in the world, it was much better than being cooped up in the small cabin they had below. It was busy on the deck, however, with sailors scurrying about. Most of the activity was concentrated on the sails as the raiders worked to set them according to their captain's standards.

Hawke followed his line of sight. "I wonder what's that all about," said Hawke. "Isa…that is Captain Isabela seems to be awfully demanding when it comes to those sails." She twitched her nose curiously. "Let's go ask," she said and before Fenris could protest, his mageling darted forward leaving him with no choice but to follow.

The lady pirate had a fierce scowl on her face as they approached her. "Not that full!" she bellowed at her men. "Take those sails in! They can't handle that much wind."

"So more wind isn't better?" Hawke asked as she reached Isabela. Evidently whatever the captain had done to upset Hawke so badly at the market had been forgotten by the mageling during the time she had been sick.

"Of course not!" The lady raider whirled around to face them, the grimace on her face fading as she recognized them. "Oh. It's you. Well I can understand why you wouldn't know better." Isabela sighed. "It's disappointing that some of my men are as clueless as you. But yes, there is a thing such as too much wind. The mast can only handle so much before it will break."

"That makes sense," Hawke said after taking a moment to consider Isabela's words. "We wouldn't want that, now would we? As we can't get anywhere without sails, right?"

"At least not quickly," Isabela agreed. "There's always the oars, but that's for when you're really desperate. Personally I would try to construct a makeshift rigging first. But that's why I have to be on deck. To catch such mistakes before they become disasters."

Isabela paced back, shouting a few more orders to her men as they finished taking the sails in a bit. "I must say it's good to see you back on your feet again," Isabela told Hawke after the sails were arranged to her liking. She looked Hawke up and down with a critical eye. "You still look a little peaky though. More sun will do you good, and make sure to get some fresh fruit at dinner." Isabela flicked her gaze over to Fenris. "The same goes for you. Now I would love to stay and chitchat, but I'm afraid I can't. Too much to do, but you're welcome to stay up on deck. Just stick to the port side today in case you get sick again."

Hawke and Fenris remained on deck for the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon, remaining on the left side of the ship as Isabela had requested. Fenris was happy to see his mageling so animated as she watched the waves go by. The ship seemed to be making decent speed though Fenris had no idea how long it would take them to get to Wycombe. For that matter, he wasn't certain just where they were at but then that was something only an experience sailor would know.

Hawke insisted on eating dinner in the galley that evening, much to Fenris' dismay. He had seen the looks that she had engendered from the sailors. He did not appreciate how bold some of them were when it came to admiring Hawke's form, and Fenris had to scowl at a few of them to get them to take their lingering eyes off of Hawke. The elf knew that Hawke would only continue to attract such attention during dinner.

They were one of the first to enter the galley, and so the dining room was mostly empty. They filled up their plates with something Hawke called pickled cabbage delight. Fenris also snagged a few limes for them, mindful of Isabela's warnings. After getting some water for them to drink, Fenris herded his mageling over to a back corner to sit, telling Hawke to take the inside seat while he sat down beside her. From there, Fenris deployed his best glare, all but promising death to any sailor foolish to sit across from them.

There was one sailor on board, however, who was not cowed by Fenris' glares and that was the captain of the ship. Isabela plunked down her tray across from them before swinging her legs over the bench to take a seat. "So you've decided to join us for dinner," she noted mildly.

"I finally feel up to it," Hawke replied. "I told Fenris he could go without me, but I think he felt bad leaving me alone when I was so sick."

"Oh, that's too bad," Isabela inclined her head towards Fenris and practically cooed. "I wish you would have come at least for one night," she told him.

He was taken aback by her suggestion and all it implied. He was not used to such an indirect method of flirting; the assassin had always been straightforward with his intentions and so it had been easy for Fenris to shoot the other elf down. "I…do not feel comfortable around strangers," he stuttered, hoping to put an end to this.

However, his words did not have the intended effect as a seductive smile curled across Isabela's lips. "You don't feel comfortable around strangers? Why, sweet thing, don't you know I would have taken very good care of you?" she all but purred. She ran her eyes up and down the length of his body as though she was mentally undressing him.

"I bet you would have enjoyed that," the mageling grumbled from her spot by his side.

Fenris turned to give Hawke a sharp look. That did _not _sound like his Hawke. His Hawke didn't sound so grumpy and bitter nor did she ever look so disgruntled and displeased. It was almost as though she was…jealous for lack of a better word, but Fenris knew that could not be the case. Fenris couldn't think of any reason why Hawke would be jealous of Isabela; while the lady pirate had her charms, they simply could not compare to the fresh beauty that Hawke possessed.

Then it hit him. Fenris recalled the conversation he had the last time Hawke was out of sorts. Hawke wasn't jealous—that wasn't what was bothering her at all. No, he remembered how she had revealed to him just how much she was still hurting over being left behind by her family. Hawke was upset because she thought that he might abandon her, that he might leave her behind in order to be with Isabela.

Well that wasn't ever going to happen. As far as Fenris was concerned, there was nothing that could pry him away from his mageling. It was high time for him to assure her that she had no reason to fear that he would leave her for the lady raider.

Fenris laid his spoon down on the table and then sought out Hawke's hand so he could hold it in his. He squeezed it comfortingly before he replied to the lady raider. "I have Hawke," he told her. "I watch out for her, and she does the same for me. She's all that I need."

The lady pirate looked less than pleased by his response, but Fenris didn't care. All that he cared about was that Hawke was looking at him with her eyes shiny and bright. She was giving him that smile—the beaming, happy one that was only for him—and he didn't give a damn about anything else now that his Hawke was happy once again.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> I'm so sorry about the lack of updates. I've not forgotten about this fic, it's just that RL has been very busy as of late and so I didn't have much time for writing. I might have to switch to once a week updates instead of multiples, but at least the fic will still be making progress.

As always, thanks so much to everyone who reviewed. :D Reviews really do help keep me going when I'm short on sleep.


	28. Chapter 26

**Promises: Chapter Twenty-Six  
><strong>

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

* * *

><p>Fenris rose late the next morning, tired from staying up too late the night before listening to Hawke talk to him. His mageling had been practically bouncing with joy when they had left dinner that night, and Fenris couldn't help but feel the same. He wasn't all that good at being comforting and so the fact that he was able to turn Hawke's grumpy mood around so completely lifted his spirits too. So he had indulged his mageling and her need for conversation, which led to them both being slow to wake up the next morn.<p>

"What time is it?" Hawke asked. She stretched her arms out as she sat up in her bed. It sometimes got stuffy in their room at night, and so his mageling had taken to wearing a thin gown to bed rather than her usual robes. Her gown was hanging down around one of her shoulders, and by stretching, she unintentionally gave Fenris a peek at her breasts. Blushing furiously, Fenris turned to face the wall. It wasn't right for him to take advantage of her sleepiness to admire her, he chided himself, no matter how much he wanted to let his gaze linger.

"I don't know," Fenris replied as he struggled to fight down his arousal. "I can only tell the time on this blasted ship when we're in the galley looking at the clock or when the ship's bells ring."

"Me too," Hawke admitted. "Which means I guess the only way we'll figure out whether there's anything left of breakfast is for us to go to the galley ourselves."

The two of them got dressed quickly with Fenris making sure to avert his eyes as Hawke changed into her green mage robes. Side by side, they strolled over to the galley. As expected, there wasn't much food left when they arrived due to the lateness of the hour. However, there was the gruel Hawke and Bart insisted was porridge along with a couple of oranges that looked as though they had seen better days. It wasn't the most appetizing meal Fenris had ever eaten, but then again, it also wasn't the least.

Hawke hung around the galley after they had finished breakfast, her thoughts clearly on the promise Bart had made to her the day before. However, the cook had no qualms in kicking them out. "You should go out on deck again," he all but commanded them. "The both of you need more sun."

"But you said—"

The ship's cook shot her an annoyed look. "I've not forgotten what I said, girl. I'll show you how to cook my famous potato soup, don't you worry your pretty little head about that. I'm not going to start cooking dinner now though so you don't need to hang around here. I'll start prepping for dinner in the early afternoon so come back before then."

So it was Hawke and Fenris found themselves climbing the stairs up to the deck once more. Fenris found that he was happy to be outside. After spending the better part of the day yesterday enjoyed sunshine and fresh air, he was beginning to feel as though the walls were closing in on him when they were waiting around in the galley. A morning out in the sun was just what he needed to combat such issues.

As it had been on previous times, the deck was full of activity. Fenris had never appreciated before just how much work went into sailing a ship; the previous times he had been on a ship he had other worries to occupy his time. Isabela was in her usual spot by the ship's wheel, consulting her compass to check their direction while keeping an eye on the work her raiders did. Fenris and Hawke did their best to keep out of the way with the mageling picking out a spot on the rail near the back of the boat.

The sun seemed to do Hawke as much good as it did Fenris. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he could swear that he could see the color returning to her cheeks as she stood, her hands clutching he rail, and watched as the ship cut its way through the ocean. His mageling was especially enchanted when they were suddenly surrounded by a school of fish though Fenris could not bring himself to share in her excitement.

The elven warrior was even less pleased when a fishing pole was shoved into his hands by none other than the captain herself. "If you're going to stand there, you might as well see what you can catch," she told them. "Any fish you can reel in will be a welcome addition to our dinner."

Hawke gave Isabela a cheeky grin. "Not by Fenris, I fear. I would say he hates fish, but I'm afraid that would be understating his feelings towards them."

"More for us who appreciate the ocean's bounty then," was the lady pirate's ready reply. She glared at Fenris. "Don't even think about sabotaging these poles are any others," she said sharply, gesturing with one hand towards the crew members she had on fishing duty. "I'll catch you if you do, and you will not like the consequences."

"I won't," Fenris replied shortly. While it was true that he detested the slimy things, he was practical enough to realize that passing up a fresh source of protein wasn't a viable option when at sea. Though Isabela had bought more than enough provisions to last their journey, there was always the chance that the ship would be becalmed for some unexpected reason and that they would need to extend their food stores. Besides the elf had no intention of eating the nasty stuff unless there was no other option; if served in a soup or stew, he could always pick the fish out.

His mageling was more than eager to get started on the task Isabela had given them. It didn't take her long at all to bait her hook and cast the line. She hummed to herself as Fenris struggled with his fishing rod. Hawke had already reeled in several fish when she glanced over in his direction.

"You haven't even baited your hook yet?" she said, looking utterly aghast at the trouble he was having. She placed the last fish she had caught in the bucket beside her and then put her pole down to help him. It was help that Fenris could have done without. Having his mageling so near to him—her soft hands brushed up against his as she showed him the best way to bait a hook and if he looked down just so, he could see down her robes—was torture. In any other situation, he would have put an end to such torture by claiming her lips as his own, to see if maybe she felt something more than just friendship for him. However, given that they were surrounded by fish, his stomach was not entirely settled. He did not want to risk a repeat of their first day aboard the ship, only with their roles reversed.

It seemed that a small eternity passed—an awful one filled with the smell of fish intermixed with the sound of Hawke's laughs—before Isabela finally declared that it was noon with the help of her sextant. That was their signal to start cleaning up so that they could return to the galley. Fenris had never before been so happy to have Hawke cook or rather help with cooking. While he was not entirely looking forward to having to eat something Hawke had a hand in preparing, it was still much better than the alternative of having to spend the rest of the day fishing.

Unfortunately for him, they wound up having to lug the current catch back to the kitchen. The cook's eyes lit up when he saw their haul. "Fresh fish? Well that is a bit of luck," he proclaimed. "We'll grill half of it to serve tonight and salt the rest to save for later. They'll have to be cleaned first." He motioned for Fenris to move towards the sink. "You clean the fish, elf, while the girl can start peeling the potatoes."

Fenris thought that he kept his face blank and none of his dismay at the prospect of cleaning fish for the rest of the afternoon shone through. However, it appeared that his mageling discerned his true feelings about such an assignment. "Actually I'll take care of the fish while Fenris can start off with the potatoes," Hawke chipped in. "I've done that many times before, with my father, and so I think I can get the job done faster than Fenris."

"Makes no difference to me who does what so long as the job gets done," Bart replied with a shrug of his shoulders. Fenris helped Hawke carry the fish over to the sink. After his mageling was situated properly, he was directed over to a barrel of potatoes, of which he was supposed to peel around half. He took a seat on a nearby stool and started the task, tossing each potato into a large pot filled with water after he had finished peeling it with a small paring knife.

Fenris made good progress with peeling the potatoes. His skill with a blade made him an able kitchen helper. However Hawke was faster with the fish, and so she came over to help him after she was done. Fenris wrinkled his nose as she pushed a stool next to him and then sat down. He wouldn't say as much but his mageling didn't smell too appealing right now.

"Something tells me you think I stink," she noted wryly.

"I can still smell the fish on you," he admitted. "Perhaps if you wash your hands—"

"I did. Twice. Nothing's going to help except a bath," she said. "Don't worry. I'll take one later after we're finished here," she added quickly when Fenris' expression turned sour. "You won't be able to sleep tonight unless I do, right?"

"Thank you," he replied simply. The work went faster with Hawke by his side, despite how awful she currently smelled. Once they were done, Hawke called Bart over and all but demanded that he explain his potato soup to her. Frankly the cook's explanation made little sense to Fenris. Supposedly one had to boil all the ingredients forever in order to properly develop their flavors. Hawke nodded her head as if she agreed with that notion, but all Fenris could think was that the Fereldan method of cooking ensured that not only was everything in a dish dull and flavorless but also had the same mushy texture.

There wasn't much else to do for the soup, however, after the large pot was placed on the fire. Bart all but kicked them out of his kitchen, insisting that he could handle the rest by himself. Thankfully Hawke did not protest and instead made a beeline for their room, where she collected a few items for her bath. Fenris stood watch outside the washroom as Hawke cleaned up, eyeing any sailor who dared venture too close while his mageling was inside.

Despite Fenris' reservations, dinner wasn't a complete loss. He studiously avoided the fish, settling for a large bowl of soup and along with some hard bread. His mageling was about to do the same, conscious as she was of his sensibilities, but he wasn't about to have that. "Take some fish," he told her in a no-nonsense tone. "You still need to regain your strength after being sick so long."

"But won't that bother you later tonight?" she asked, concern writ all over her face.

"No," he replied. Hawke still took a cup of ginger tea before dinner each night, and Fenris knew he could count on that spicy scent to wipe away any remaining odor from Hawke's dinner. His mageling followed his advice and took a generous serving of fish along with her soup and bread. As Fenris had done ever since Hawke felt well enough to take meals with the crew, Fenris arranged to sit so that Hawke was against a wall while he was right next to her. While he didn't think he would have to cause to protect her on the ship, the elf still felt that it was a good habit for him to develop.

The pair of them retired to their room after dinner for another boring night in. There was nothing to do on the ship at night. Fenris' armor and weapons were in pristine condition, and he simply did not feel like wasting time cleaning them again when they did not need it. It was odd but he found himself missing traveling through Antiva. At least there, he could occupy his nights by planning out possible escape routes. Fenris had long ago figured out their avenues of escape from the ship, and none of them were promising.

"Are you bored?" Hawke asked from her spot on her bed. "Because I am."

"There does appear to be a lack of entertainment on this vessel," Fenris agreed. His traitorous mind suggested one way of passing the time by following up on his aborted kiss from all those weeks ago. He flushed at such thoughts. It was one thing to be brave when Hawke was practically pressed up against him; it was quite another thing to do so when there was an entire room separating the two of them.

"We could go up on deck," Hawke suggested, "and see the stars. I imagine the view must be something else."

That idea did have its appeal for more than one reason. It would be another chance to get closer to Hawke and see if her lips were as soft as they looked, but on the other hand, they would undoubtedly have an audience, if only the night crew. Before Fenris could formulate a response to his mageling's suggestion, a knock sounded upon the door.

"I wonder who that could be," said Hawke as she jumped up from her seat and ambled over to the door. The mageling opened the door to reveal the ship captain, smiling at the both of them.

"Oh good," said Isabela. "You're both still up. You fled the galley so quickly that I thought maybe you were already in bed…doing Maker knows what," she concluded with a leer.

Hawke was too flustered by that suggestion to respond to the lady pirate, and Fenris wasn't in much better condition. Isabela took advantage of that fact to push her way past Hawke and into their room. "Hmm, it looks cozy in here. Don't tell me that the two of you are just going to sleep?" she demanded.

Hawke and Fenris exchanged sheepish glances for that had been their plan for the evening. "It's not as though there's much to do," Hawke said defensively.

"That shows a lack of imagination on your part, love," was the pirate's airy response. However, to Fenris' surprise, the next words out of her mouth weren't filled with innuendo. "Tell me, didn't one of you think to bring a deck of cards."

The glances Hawke and Fenris exchanged this time around were confused. "Um…no," Hawke said slowly.

"Figured as much. Good thing that I always have plenty. They're back in my cabin though so let's head there. I've not played a game of Wicked Grace since we've left shore. It's not very wise of a captain to play with her crew, you see, as sailors tend to get disgruntled if you beat them too badly." She paused to look at Hawke. "Please tell me you've heard of the game before, kitten."

"Heard of it, yes. Played it, never," Hawke replied promptly.

Isabela whipped her head around to look at Fenris. "How about you?"

Fenris shook his head. "I too have never played it," he replied. He took care to keep his face blank. While it was true he hadn't played the game before, he had watched the game played many times back in the Imperium. If Isabela thought he was an easy mark, then so much the better for him.

"Lovely. Playing with a pair of virgins. Can't think of a better way to pass a night, really." Isabela all but rubbed her hands together in glee.

"Something tells me that you plan on robbing us blind," Hawke said. "Thanks but no thanks."

"Don't be like that kitten. It'll be fun to learn something new."

Hawke remained unmoved. She crossed her arms across her chest and lifted her chin up stubbornly. "I think I told you before we're not made of money. I would like to be able to eat once we're back on shore so I think we're going to have to refuse your kind invitation."

Isabela rolled her eyes. "My, you are a tough nut to crack. Look, you can't play Wicked Grace without betting something. It just wouldn't be the same."

Hawke looked unconvinced and so the lady pirate tried again. "That being said, we don't have to wager money per se. There are other options. I have fond memories of stripping down to my smalls during one game at the Blooming Rose—"

Now it was Fenris' turn to put his foot down. "No," he said. "Not interested."

"The two of you are a pair!" Isabela exclaimed with exasperation. "Fine. We'll play for bits, okay? And you can stop at any time you think you've lost too much. Will that do?"

Fenris looked over at his mageling to see what she thought of the matter. She gave him a small smile and nodded her head, indicating that she was up for it. That suited him just fine. It was boring to have nothing to do night after night, and a card game—even one with a tricksy lady pirate—would make for a nice break from that monotony.

Isabela ushered them over to her own private cabin, which was significantly larger than the room the two of them shared. There was a table in the middle of the room, and Isabela indicated that they should take a seat with a lazy wave of her hand. She offered them brandy before they started, with Fenris taking her up on that offer while Hawke refused, asking for water instead. After they were situated, with drinks in hand, Isabela took out an old deck of cards and started shuffling them.

Fenris, however, wasn't a complete novice. "Let me see those," he said sharply, plucking the cards out of Isabela's hand. He flipped through them, taking note of their rough edges and the faded patterns on their backs. "These are marked," he said accusingly.

Isabela's face betrayed no embarrassment at being caught out. "So you do know a little something about cards," she remarked. "All right then, we'll use a new deck. Will that do?" she asked, reaching for an unopened pack of cards.

Fenris motioned for her to hand those over to him as well. While the new deck of cards were uniform in their shape, something else was off about them. "These are weighted," he announced. "Though I don't see how that helps anyone," he added.

"Right again. Give me a set of weighted cards, and I'll make sure I'm dealt the perfect hand every time," Isabela explained. She sighed dramatically. "And here I thought I had a pair of easy marks for the evening. Looks like I'll have to actually work for my wins." The grin she gave them made it clear that she wasn't about to take it easy on a pair of novices, especially not after Fenris had caught her early attempts to cheat.

Whatever plans she had to rake them over the coals were not to be, however. Though Fenris had been telling the truth when he had said that he had never played the game—indeed he had never heard of Wicked Grace before—soon after Isabela began explaining the rules, he realized that it was very much like a favorite card game of magisters back in Tevinter. Cheating was an unofficial part of that game as well, and part of his duty as Danarius' bodyguard was to alert the magister when others around the table cheated. As such, he was well versed in all the ways a person could try to rig the game, which was a good thing since Isabela tried just about all of them.

It also helped that fortune was smiling on him that evening, delivering him the best hands frequently. The game didn't start in earnest until a couple of rounds in, with Isabela patiently explaining the rules to them more than once. After the game took off, it soon became evident who the night's big winner would be, and it was not Isabela.

That fact rather stuck in the pirate's graw. "Maker's balls!" the lady raider exclaimed. "You win again, elf. Are you sure you've never played this game before?"

"Positive," he replied succinctly. He reached across the table to collect his pot. It wasn't much, a mere fifty bits, but the disgruntled expression on Isabela's face more than made up for that.

"I find that hard to believe," Isabela grumbled. "Beginner's luck can't explain all the hands you've been getting."

"That's because whatever luck I should have as a beginner, he's taken too," Hawke said lightly. She shot a look over at Fenris. "Though I must say I doubt you ever expected that you would be unable to pull one over on Fenris, Isabela. If I had a bit every time Fenris caught you cheating…why I imagine my pile would be larger than his by now."

"And you've only won two hands," Fenris agreed.

That remark only earned him glares from both women. "Way to make a girl feel better," Hawke muttered, wrinkling her nose at him.

"He could use some improvement with his comforting skills, couldn't he?" the lady pirate noted. "Although I noticed you didn't complain when he took care of you while you were sick."

Hawke ducked her head, but not before Fenris could see a faint blush covering her cheeks. "Yes, well, Fenris took very good care of me. I've no cause for complaints."

Fenris winced at her choice of words. The lady pirate was sure to leap all over them and make them into something dirty. Unfortunately for his peace of mind, Isabela did not disappoint.

"Is that so?" Isabela looked at him through her lashes and then licked her lips. "Well I can certainly see why. Fenris here is scrumptious, isn't he?"

Now it was Fenris' turn to duck his head to hide his blush. He could feel the tips of his ears burning in response to Isabela's suggestion of how they spent that time alone in their cabin. His blasted imagination was no help, offering up image after image of how his mageling would look in his bed.

"Isabela!" Hawke exclaimed, her jaw dropping open. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Oh? So you weren't referring to his bedside manner?" The grin the lady pirate offered up was nothing short of wicked.

"I was but…no, not in the way you're thinking," Hawke replied, her cheeks a bright red once more. "Are your thoughts always in the gutter?" she asked.

"Usually," Isabela replied with a shrug of her shoulders, "and sometimes I even join them in the gutter. That's when you know I've had a good time."

"Ew." Hawke pulled a face at that mental image. "That doesn't sound pleasant."

"You speak like someone who has never been there. Don't knock it until you've tried it," Isabela replied. She leaned forward towards Hawke. "You really are an innocent, aren't you, kitten?"

Hawke looked to the side, not willing to meet the pirate's eyes. "I imagine that compared to you most people are," was her dissembling response.

"Hmm…that's what I thought." The lady pirate tilted her head to one side, considering the mageling.

Fenris felt a shudder run down his spine. He didn't like that glint in Isabela's eyes. He just knew that he wouldn't like whatever mad scheme she was now considering.

"Why don't we stop this game?" Isabela asked. She didn't wait for a response to toss her cards. "It's getting boring, anyway, with the elf winning all the time, and I can show you something new."

The lady pirate leaned back in her seat, balancing her chair on its back legs. She glanced over at Fenris and licked her lips again before continuing. "You've never been with a man before, have you kitten," she said. "And it's a bit scary, isn't it, not knowing what to do? I'll tell you what. Why don't I show you how to pleasure a man by going down on Fenris here? You can take notes on the proper technique and after I'm done, you can have a go. I promise you he'll be up for it. The lean, lanky ones always have the most stamina."

Hawke could only gape in shock at such an offer, and Fenris found himself similarly unable to respond. He couldn't quite believe that the lady raider had the gall to suggest such a thing. He thought that he had made it clear that he had no interest in partaking in her talents. More than that, there was no way he wanted the lady pirate to teach his mageling anything of such an intimate nature, especially not with him as a sort of practice dummy.

"No response?" Isabela asked, looking coy. She flicked her gaze over at Fenris. "Your elf isn't saying no, Hawke, so I'm guessing that he's more than willing."

That got a reaction out of Fenris, though not the one Isabela was expecting. "I am not the mage's elf!" he roared, his lyrium brands flaring to life. Suddenly full of anger and rage, he leapt up, knocking his chair to the ground, and stalked out the door without a single backwards glance at his mageling.

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> My thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Again, I'm sorry for the wait but it seems like the next couple updates will just be once a week.


	29. Chapter 27

**Promises: Chapter Twenty-Seven  
><strong>

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

* * *

><p>Fenris strode angrily up the stairs and out on deck. His fierce demeanor was such that no one bothered him as he made his way to the bow of the ship. Even now he couldn't help but feel dirty when he thought of what Isabela had said.<p>

'Hawke's elf' she had called him, and the mere idea of belonging to another mage made him burn. No, it was more than that. He belonged to _no one_, now that he was free and he had paid a high price for such freedom. To have his struggles dismissed so easily, to hear someone refer to him as belonging to someone else…it was not something he could bear.

What was worse than that, however, was he could understand why someone might think he belonged to Hawke. Certainly the devotion he had shown when taking care of his mageling while she was sick was akin to that of a slave serving his master. He had done everything for Hawke back then, from fetching her meals to helping her to the privy, looking after her with a gentleness that would not have been out of place with a house slave in Tevinter. He hadn't even realized until now that he had acted that way.

And his behavior went even further. It had become second nature for him to watch out for his mageling, to keep her safe. He had fallen into the habit of putting himself in between her and any potential source of danger, like any decent bodyguard would. The cold clammy hands of fear gripped him as he wondered just how free he actually was. He had returned to his old role without even thinking, as though he was still bound by the chains of his old life.

Fenris didn't even want to linger over the fact that he had done all of this for another mage. Not that Hawke was anything like the mages of the Imperium. Her abhorrence of blood magic was the clearest difference between the mageling and the magisters he had known. Every magister eagerly embraced the power that blood magic gave them as no magister would be able to keep his position if he did not exploit every single advantage available. As for the demons a magister had to bargain with to learn illicit spells…well that was simply another advantage that a magister could wield against his peers.

There was more though. Hawke was different from the mages of the Imperium not just because of her steadfast refusal to participate in such dark arts, but also because of her sunny and bright demeanor. The mageling was always laughing, and Maker knew that she flashed that brilliant smile of hers at him more times each day than was good for his peace of mind. In Tevinter, he was used to mages snarling and sneering at him. His former master, Danarius, was an exception to that rule but not a good one. He shuddered as he recalled the sort of activities that would follow when Danarius was in a good mood.

It had been even worse, however, when his former master was feeling poorly. Then Danarius would find fault with every single thing he did, and more often than not, punish him accordingly. Sometimes Danarius would delay his punishment, leaving Fenris to live in fear, not knowing when he would be subjected to the whip or worse. He clenched his jaw as he remembered how happy he had been to serve at Danarius' feet despite the daily terrors to which he was subjected.

After he had escaped, it had been easy for him to swear that he would never serve a mage like he did his former master ever again. It was harder apparently for him to actually carry such a thought out though if the way he looked after Hawke was anything to go by. However, to her credit, Hawke had never asked for anything like that from him. The only thing she had ever requested from him was merely his company, which went to prove that his mageling was an odd duck.

Just then, as though his thoughts had somehow summoned her, Fenris heard the sound of Hawke shuffling up behind him. He didn't turn to greet her. Instead he struggled to regain control over his temper. He was not angry with his mageling, and he didn't want to snap at her. Hawke was not at fault here. Indeed she was blameless. She shouldn't be held accountable for the misperceptions of a foolish pirate, and so he would have to do his best to rein his anger in.

"Hello Fenris," Hawke said hesitantly. "You…um left without your winnings so I collected them for you."

It was a nice, relatively safe topic for Hawke to open with. Undoubtedly she was trying to test the waters with him. Fenris closed his eyes and sighed. While he wasn't upset with Hawke, he didn't particularly feel like talking at the moment, not even with her. "Thank you," he replied simply, hoping that she would get the hint.

His hope faltered when Hawke took that response as encouragement to take up a spot beside him near the rail. "So I…um…took the liberty of asking Isabela how much longer it'll take to get to Wycombe," she said. The mageling had her eyes trained on the ground, and she shifted her weight back and forth nervously. "Turns out that the ship has been making good time, and so we should make port in less than a week."

"That is good news," Fenris said whole-heartedly. He hated this blasted boat for its wretched smell and even worse company. If he had to put up with the lady pirate's company for too much longer…well that didn't bear thinking.

Though he wasn't looking at her, he could feel his mageling perk up. "I thought you might feel that way," she stated. "Truth is, I feel the same. I'm getting awfully tired of being on a boat in the middle of the sea. And to think—I once thought it would be a grand adventure to travel on a real ship." She shook her head ruefully and then looked at him sideways. "What a foolish notion that was. The reality isn't romantic at all. Traveling on a small Fereldan ship versus traveling by a grander ship…either way, it's not my thing."

Fenris snorted to himself. He had no idea why his mageling might think that a boat ride might be romantic, but at least she had learned something from their time on the ship. He didn't think it likely that they would ever set foot on a ship ever again, no matter how desperate they might be to escape a particular place.

"So given that we'll be safe and sound on dry land again in the none-too-distant future…I was thinking that perhaps maybe we should decide on where to head to next," Hawke continued. "Wycombe is properly in the Free Marches. I know we talked about traveling in the general direction of Kirkwall but I…well maybe you don't want to anymore?"

"I certainly have no wish to remain on this ship a second longer than strictly necessary," he replied sharply. Frankly Fenris didn't care at the moment where they went so long as they put the sea and this ill-fated trip behind them. He decided to say as much to his mageling. "As for where to head next…I have no preference. Moving south would take me further away from Tevinter, and so that is as good a direction as any."

"I see," Hawke replied softly. Her voice caught on her next words. That didn't sound good, and he was struck with the sudden impression that his mageling was near tears. Filled with worry for her, Fenris looked over at her but her eyes were downcast. Before he could ask her what was wrong, however, she spoke up once more.

"I…well…I don't suppose you…you want me to come along," she mumbled. She brought her head up suddenly, her large eyes shimmering with tears and emotions. "I mean, I have no right to expect… to expect anything from you. Despite what Isabela said, I know full well that you're not my elf or anyone else's elf. So if you want to leave me behind…I…I get it, you don't want a mage following you for one and I've been such a burden and all but I'd wish you'd reconsider because it would be awfully…lonely, don't you think?"

Fenris stared at his mageling for a long moment, utterly aghast that she could think that he would ever leave her behind. "Don't be ridiculous," he said without thinking, without taking the time to select his words. "I would never leave you behind. I can't imagine being without you."

"Really?" she asked, looking up at him hopefully. "Even though I'm a mage?"

The threat of tears from Hawke had not completely abated, and he could tell his mageling needed further assurance. He silently cursed himself for letting such doubts arise in her. Despite the rage he felt towards the mere thought of being considered the property of another mage, the truth was he had no intention of ever leaving her—or letting her leave for that matter. Though she had a knack for finding trouble, she also had a way with people and was able to deal with them far better than he ever could. Fenris had no doubt that his journey would have been much more difficult without his mageling acting as a buffer between him and the world. Besides his mageling was right. He would be desperately lonely without his Hawke; he didn't think he could properly live without her by his side.

"Yes, you're a mage, and I've reason not to be fond of mages in general," Fenris told the mageling. "But you're not like any other mage I met." He smiled wistfully. "That much was made clear when we first met. Even then it was immediately apparent that the mageling before me was different from the magisters that rule the Imperium," he explained.

Hawke blinked up at him. "Mageling?" she asked, a hint of suspicion in her voice.

"Yes, because you're innocent and uncorrupted by the thirst for power, unlike all the other mages I have encountered," he said. It was true that Hawke was special that way. If she hadn't been so adamantly set against blood magic and its perils, he would not have ever let her stay by his side for so long.

That was another difference, one that hadn't occurred to him before, between his relationship with Hawke and that with his former master. When he was a slave, he had no choice to serve. It was simply his lot in life to protect Danarius from harm, and he had no say in the matter.

With Hawke, however, there were no similar chains binding him. True, he wasn't sure how much was habit when it came to defending her in battle, but there was nothing stopping him from leaving her if he wanted. Hawke had recognized that much herself when she asked if he wanted to part ways.

The fact that he had no intention of doing so…well that was his choice as a free man, not a slave. He liked traveling with Hawke. She was a thoughtful companion and the concern she showed time and again for his comfort was genuine. More than that, he liked Hawke. But no, saying that he merely liked Hawke wasn't being entirely honest. He admired her certainly. Though he could not profess to understand her moral code, he knew her adherence to it helped her resist the temptations that all mages were subjected to. And as for her actual person…Fenris was suddenly glad that it was dark out on deck for the lack of light hid his blush. He had never thought it possible to feel about a mage the way he did about Hawke, but then Hawke was easy to love.

Fenris coughed nervously. He needed to banish such thoughts from his mind if he was ever going to get some sleep that night. "I think it is high time that we retire for the evening," he told his mageling. "Though it is boring on this ship, we had better get what rest we can. We're going to need it no matter where we decide to go after we make port."

"That's a…good idea," Hawke muttered to herself. Fenris raised an eyebrow. His mageling seemed slightly out of sorts. He had thought that he had laid her fears to rest, but perhaps he had been unsuccessful in that endeavor.

"Is something wrong?" he asked her. "If you're afraid that I'll leave you—"

"No, I'm not," Hawke said quickly with a shake of her head. "I'm just tired, that's all. I'm glad, really, knowing that whatever happens next we'll still be together."

Though it still seemed as though something was troubling his mageling, Fenris let that pass. If she needed further reassurance in the morning, after a good night's sleep, then he would provide it. For now, however, it was high time for them to make their way back to their cabin and into their respective beds.

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><p>The rest of their sea journey was uneventful, something for which Fenris was grateful for. Surprisingly enough, Isabela did not approach either of them any further. When Fenris mentioned to his mageling that he thought Isabela would have tried again, Hawke hung her head and admitted that she might have had words with the lady pirate.<p>

"Words?" he repeated, lifting up an eyebrow. "Was that wise?"

"Probably not, seeing how she's the captain and all. But she overstepped certain bounds and I found it necessary to call her out on it," Hawke replied. "I might have…um…well I guess I did rather threaten to incinerate a chest of her favorite…let's call them toys, shall we?"

Fenris blinked. Clearly it had been a mistake for him to leave his mageling alone with the lady raider, no matter how angry he had been. "And she didn't gut you?"

Hawke flashed a sly smile at him. "No. I doubt that thought even crossed her mind. I can be forceful sometimes, if I'm driven to it. Suffice it to say, I don't think we have to worry about her making any more unwelcome advances."

"That is a relief," Fenris replied. He noted that his mageling was regarding him carefully as though gauging his reaction, although he did not know why. There were times, like this one, when he felt that he did not understand the sort of thoughts that ran through his mageling's head at all.

The two of them still went out on deck on each day, with neither needing prodding from the ship's cook or anyone else to get their daily dose of sun. Nights wound up being the worst as there was nothing to do. Hawke would often chatter aimlessly until she grew so tired that she fell asleep. That left Fenris to his own devices. He often just sat atop of his bed and watched his mageling as she slept. More than once he wondered how it would feel to sneak over to her side and steal a kiss from her while she was dozing. He never dared, however, for he feared what Hawke's reaction would be if she woke up while he was kissing her.

The ship reached the port of Wycombe five days after that eventful night in Isabela's cabin. The pirate captain was all too happy to kick them off of her ship. "And here we are at Wycombe," she announced after the ship had docked. "Which means it's time for the two of you to say your goodbyes."

"So eager to get rid of us?" Hawke asked with a quirk of her eyebrow as she hefted her pack on to her back. They had already readied their packs the night before and were more than ready to leave.

"Why yes. It's nothing personal, kitten, but the sooner I get rid of my current cargo, the sooner I can start on my next job," was Isabela's answer.

"I see. And here I thought you'd enjoy the comforts of land for a few days first," the mageling replied.

Isabela snorted. "I wish. I could use a bit of…release. Unfortunately that's not an option for me this time around. I've already a job lined up, you see, and the man I'm working for isn't exactly the patient type." Her eyes narrowed, and she addressed her next words to Fenris. "He's also the unsavory sort so I would advise the two of you leave before he gets here."

Fenris grimaced. If the lady pirate considered her next business sort to be unsavory, then the man must be really bad indeed. So he ushered his mageling off of the ship—not that Hawke needed much prodding—and hurried them away from the docks, claiming that he was sick from always smelling the sea.

"But there are some ships from Ferelden!" Hawke protested.

Fenris checked a sigh. "We can come back tomorrow and see if there's anyone who has news of your home," he told her. "For now, I would appreciate it if we could find an inn that is a bit further away from the docks and their stench."

"All right. Maybe we can get a nicer inn this time too? Like the one in Antiva that Zev took us to, where we had an entire suite to ourselves."

He wanted to tell his mageling no. Though they could clearly afford such a place, he didn't want to spend coin unnecessarily and also he wanted to keep a low profile within the city. However, Fenris found he couldn't refuse his mageling when she was smiling at him like that.

Fenris allowed himself a small groan before agreeing to the mageling's request. Perhaps a suite would be a good idea. If nothing else, they would sleep in separate rooms for once which could prove to be a blessing. It was getting harder and harder for him to ignore how tempting his mageling was. It went against all of his instincts, but that memory he had when he had to carry her to their room—her skin so soft and warm against him, causing his lyrium brands to hum pleasantly—he wanted to touch her again, to prove that feeling wasn't a fluke.

Such notions were foolish, however, and he should know better than to even consider them. Clearly what he needed was to establish some distance between himself and his mageling. The only problem with that idea was that Fenris was all too aware of the fact that he couldn't bear to be parted from her. Hawke had become the most important person in his life, and he was going to have to learn how to live with that.

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> Much thanks to everyone who reviewed. It's sad perhaps but reviews help keep me going when I'm up late at night writing.


	30. Side Story C

**Promises: Side Story C  
><strong>

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

Author's note: This is the third alternate POV that delves into why Hawke was a little out of sorts after speaking to Fenris on the deck at night.

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><p>There wasn't much room for privacy on board a ship, Hawke reflected mournfully as she lay in her bed. That hadn't bothered her at first because she got to share a room with Fenris but right now she could use a bit of space while she fought back the tears.<p>

_Mageling_, he had called her. Even now, the term burned. It really hit home just how Fenris saw her—not as a women, but as a girl, a mere child. During their time with Zevran, she had come to believe that Fenris was attracted to her despite her being a mage. However, their time with Isabela crushed that notion.

It hurt to remember how Fenris blushed in response to Isabela's non-stop flirting. And knowing that Fenris' type was the busty, glamorous sort like the lady raider rather than her own rather homespun self…well she couldn't think about that. Because then she'd cry and that would wake up Fenris and he would try to comfort her and she just couldn't deal with that right now.

Hawke turned to her side so that she faced the wall and took one deep breath after another, counting them in an attempt to soothe her aching heart. There wasn't much she could do if Fenris didn't fancy her. The only magic she knew of that could change another person's feelings was blood magic, and she would never resort to that. The mere thought of using such an ugly thing on her favorite elf…she simply would never do it and she'd kill anyone who dared try.

She checked a sigh. Maker, she was pathetic, pining for a man who didn't even think of her as a woman. Surely it would be better to move on. As her mother would be quick to point out, there were other fishes in the sea. If she was that desperate, she might even be able to find someone on board the ship willing to put up her peculiarities.

The only problem with that notion was that the only man she wanted was Fenris.

Hawke turned over again and stared at the ceiling. She wasn't the sort to give up easily and now wasn't the time to start. Hawke cupped her breasts, frowning as she mentally compared them to those of the lady pirate. No, they couldn't even begin to compare in size but there was more than one way to attract a man. Her mother had often said things like that, but Hawke had always tuned her out. She hadn't seen the point; she was an apostate. Love simply wasn't meant for her. Now that she had been bitten by it, however, she desperately wished that she had paid more attention to her mother's advice.

But the point remained—she couldn't give up on Fenris just yet. They wouldn't be on this blasted ship forever, and maybe once they were away from the temptations Isabela offered Hawke would have more of a chance. She would have to make Fenris see her as a woman first though, and she feared that would be quite a challenge.

It wouldn't be an insurmountable task though. First things first, she would need new clothes. Her robes were lovely and fit her well—something for which she had Zevran to thank—but obviously they were not doing the trick. Maybe something shorter to show off her legs, maybe something cinched to emphasize her small waist, or maybe something tighter to make her breasts look bigger than they were. She would have to suss out what got Fenris' attention the most, but hopefully there would be something about her figure that he would find compelling.

And if she couldn't turn his eyes towards her…no, that thought wasn't worth thinking. She simply wouldn't contemplate failure, not when she hadn't even really begun to fight for her elf. She was a Hawke, and the first thing that her father had taught her was that Hawkes didn't give up. No, it was time for her to take control of her fate rather than just being buffeted around by it. It was time for her to win Fenris' heart. For the Maker knew that he had taken hers long ago.


	31. Chapter 28

**Promises: Chapter Twenty-Eight  
><strong>

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

Author's note: My thanks to everyone who reviewed the last couple of chapters. I'm a little behind on replies, but I'm going to try to catch up some time this weekend. I've noticed that there seems to be a theme amongst the reviews-something about a kiss? Would a certain elf going sans shirt do for now? ;)

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><p>The pair found a pleasant inn near the market district of Wycombe. Taking a page from Zevran's book, Hawke was able to negotiate a sweet deal for a suite of rooms. There were only two rooms in this particular suite—one bedroom along with a sitting room—but the suite was the only one available that had its own private bath and that more than made up for Fenris having to share a bedroom with his mageling again.<p>

It wasn't as though he had any real problem with that. He told himself sharing a room with Hawke was for the best so he could keep an eye on his mageling. However, Fenris knew in his heart of hearts that it was dangerous for him and Hawke to continue sleeping near each other. The latest gown his mageling had taken to wearing to bed was nearly sheer, and it took all of Fenris' willpower not to stare when Hawke pranced around in it. There were times when he couldn't help but wonder if his mageling was deliberately baiting him. If she was then…but no, he knew better than that. That night in Isabela's cabin proved that Hawke was truly innocent about such things.

After they had made arrangements at the inn, Hawke insisted on heading out to the market for a bit. The mageling quickly made a beeline for a bookstore and purchased a couple of books for reading. Fenris hung back nervously, not wanting to betray the fact that he couldn't read to Hawke. Thankfully Hawke seemed a bit secretive about her purchases and so didn't ask for his opinion. The only thing Hawke openly bought was a deck of cards so the two of them would also have the option to play together at night.

Fenris and Hawke ate their dinner at a small shop in the market, rather than going back to the inn. The elf was grateful for finally having a proper meal—something with real meat rather than a dried substitute—and he wound up eating more than he should. As a result, he more or less passed out early in the evening, falling asleep while Hawke stayed up late, reading one of her new books. The last thing he saw before he closed his eyes was his mageling glancing over at him with a fond smile on her face.

His overly full stomach led to Fenris waking up late in the day, which for him was mid-morning. He woke with a start. There was a sinking feeling in his gut that there was something wrong. The elf irritably rubbed the sleep from his eyes, upset that he had lingered in bed for so long. He didn't need to look outdoors to see how late it was. On the tip of his tongue sat a rebuke for Hawke for not waking him up when he realized just what was wrong with the room.

Hawke wasn't in their bedroom.

Fenris cursed vehemently as he pushed the light cover aside. _Don't panic,_ he told himself. _The mageling is most certainly in the sitting room._ He knew his fear was unreasonable, but he couldn't quite control it. Though the bedroom wasn't that large, it still felt like it took forever for him to cross the room and open the door into the sitting room.

Hawke wasn't there either.

Now panic was truly beginning to set in. Without breaking stride or pausing to reach for his sword, Fenris strode through the sitting room and out the door, intent on seeing if Hawke had perhaps went downstairs for a bit of nourishment without him. That was entirely possible for the mageling might have thought that Fenris would not be hungry for breakfast because of the large meal he had had for dinner. The elf exited the suite at full speed, needing to see Hawke, to confirm that she hadn't left him, when a pair of shrieks stopped him dead in his tracks.

Fenris glanced over to see a couple of maids staring at him with their mouths hanging wide open. Their eyes seemed to be lingering on his chest. He looked down and cursed once more. He had forgotten that he had taken off his shirt before he had fallen asleep last night because he had eaten so much that his normally well-fitting tunic rubbed uncomfortably against his stomach. Though the delay was unwelcome, he couldn't very well go parading about the inn with a bare chest. The horrified looks he received from the maids as they saw his lyrium scarred chest was bad enough; he didn't want to leave a trail of such people in his wake. Fenris went back into the suite to put on a tunic. This time he also took his sword before leaving, reasoning that he might need it if his mageling had found a way to get into trouble.

Now properly attired and armed, Fenris was out the door once more and headed straight towards the inn's dining room. There were only a few people there. Fenris scanned their faces, hoping against hope that his mageling would be one of them but it was to no avail. His mageling wasn't there.

His heart dropped. He couldn't believe this was happening. While he had feared that one day Hawke might see him for the bitter, mad elf that he was and seek to leave him behind, he never thought that the day would come so soon. He didn't know what to do. Obviously he needed to find Hawke before she got too far away, but he didn't know where to start looking.

Fenris racked his brain as he went over the conversations he had with Hawke. She had mentioned something about heading towards Kirkwall in the long run if she never ran across anyone with news of her family. Then he recalled how she wanted to linger at the docks the day before, to ask questions of the ships flying Fereldan colors. His path decided, Fenris hurried out of the inn. He couldn't count on luck alone; speed was of the essence if he was to find Hawke before it was too late. Fenris quickened his step and was almost out the door when it swung open and in walked in no other than Hawke herself.

"Fenris!" she exclaimed, her face lighting up when she saw him. "You're up!" Leave it to his mageling to have such a firm grasp on the obvious. She cheerfully bounced over to him. She gave him the once over. "And you look none the worse for wear. You had quite the stomach ache last night."

Fenris couldn't quite believe his ears. Here he was, in a blind panic over having lost Hawke, only to have his mageling show up and act as though nothing was out of the ordinary. Suddenly he was furious with her. "Where have you been?" he snapped at her.

"At the market," was her reply. "I wanted to do a bit of shopping."

"And you didn't see fit to wake me?" he ground out.

She shook her head slowly. "Well no. I knew you were feeling poorly the night before, and besides I figured that shopping is getting boring for you and so—"

"_Festis bei umo canavarum_," Fenris muttered under his breath. His mageling gave him a questioning look, and he shook his head. "You should have woke me," he told her sternly. "When I woke up and you weren't there…." He trailed off, not wanting to reveal just how worried he had been.

"Oh! You mean you didn't see my note? I left it on the table by your bed," Hawke said. She stepped closer to him, reaching out a hand to brush lightly against his fringe. "I'm sorry, Fenris, truly I am. I never meant to worry you."

He ducked his head. He didn't want to meet his mageling's gaze for more reasons than one. "So what was so important that you simply had to go shopping first thing in the morning?" he asked, hoping to change the direction of the conversation—or at least his thoughts.

"I wanted something new to wear," was her prompt response.

Fenris was taken aback. That was not the answer he had expected. Then he stopped and actually looked at what his mageling was wearing—a skirt that stopped just above her knees, displaying a tempting amount of leg along with a pair of half-boots and a cinched shirt that somehow managed to show off both Hawke's breasts as well as her waist—and cursed aloud for what seemed to be the tenth time that morning.

"So do you like it?" Hawke asked, twirling around before him.

Fenris bit his tongue. He was torn really when it came to what he wanted to do. Part of him wanted to drag Hawke back to their room in order to keep her safe from prying eyes while another part of him wanted to trace her path back so he could eliminate anyone who might have seen her and gotten ideas. However, his mageling was waiting for him to say something and so he said, "It's not a robe."

"Oh, good eye there. I'd have to get up very early in the morning to pull one over you." His mageling stopped teasing him when he growled. "No, it's not a set of robes. One of the more sensible things Isabela said was that a change of clothing would be useful when it comes to passing by unnoticed. It's also been getting warmer and so I thought I ought to get something that was cooler to wear. I tried last time, you know, but Isabela was of little help. Not that you were much better. Anyway I figured it would be best for me to go out on my own to get new outfits and this is the result."

"I see," Fenris said. Forget dying…his mageling was going to drive him mad with want and need before then.

"So are you feeling up for a light meal? I skipped breakfast and so I'm starved. You can go up while I can order something for our room—"

He stopped her right there. "No," he said firmly. "We'll go together." Then he latched on to her hand and herded her over to the inn's dining room. After his mageling had placed an order for them, Fenris led her back to their suite, never letting go of her hand. He continued to keep a close eye on her throughout their meal, half-scared that if he looked away for just one second that she would vanish.

No such calamity occurred, however, and when they were finished, Hawke began to push to go to the docks. Fenris readily agreed, not wanting to give the mageling another excuse to venture out on her own. Though he desperately wanted to continue hanging on to her hand to reassure himself that she wouldn't leave him, he knew that would only attract more stares. Though they hadn't been in Wycombe or the Free Marches long, Fenris was willing to bet that elves were held in low regard here too. It would only be asking for trouble to keep physical hold of his mageling, especially when she looked as delectable as she did.

Because of this, Fenris let Hawke lead the way. Theoretically this allowed him to keep an eye out for any enemies or potential troublemakers. Reality was a bit different though. Fenris found it hard to concentrate on anything aside from the swaying of Hawke's hips from side to side as she walked and wondering how it would feel to have those hips rocking beneath him. He wasn't much use to Hawke when she began questioning different Fereldan sailors to see if any of them knew of her home town of Lothering.

Apparently her village was small enough that not many had heard of it, much less visited it. Time and time again, Hawke was met with disappointment when she got answers from different sailors. Of course, Hawke also received many offers along with those disappointing answers but fortunately the mageling simply ignored them time and time again in favor of moving on to the next ship with a Fereldan flag.

Hawke's luck changed, however, with the last ship they found. "Lothering?" the ship's captain repeated back to her. He was a tall man with light brown hair and hazel eyes. "Yes, I know of the village. Good farmland there, if I remember correctly, and it sells farm goods to Redcliffe every year."

"That's right!" Hawke cried. She beamed at the man, and Fenris could tell that his mageling was excited to have finally found someone who might have more information. "I don't suppose you've been there lately. I'm from Lothering, you see, and I was wondering—"

The captain raised up a hand to forestall Hawke's questions. "I'm afraid I've never been there personally, my dear," he told her. Then a crafty look appeared in his eyes. "I have one more stop up the river though, and a couple of the passengers I've been hired to pick up have actually been to Lothering. They might have more information for you if you're looking for news of the place."

"Oh," said Hawke. She was shifting back and forth on her feet, thrilled at the notion of speaking to someone who might know something about her family. "Will you stop back here after you pick them up?" she asked.

The captain shrugged his shoulders. "Who knows? That depends on what supplies we can get inland and also what sort of currents we're facing. I want to get back to Ferelden before winter, and so if we're pressed for time then that'll be another reason to set off for Denerim without making port at Wycombe again."

"I see," said Hawke, visibly deflated.

"Don't look so disappointed, my dear," the captain told her. Though the man smiled charmingly at Hawke, Fenris wasn't fooled. The way the captain looked at his mageling was positively indecent, making Fenris toy briefly with the thought of dragging his mageling far away from here. "It's your lucky day. I happen to have a spot on my ship for one more passenger so you can sail along with us if you like."

Fenris clenched his fists. He wanted to rip the man's head off for putting such an offer before his mageling. Hawke couldn't leave him; his panic this morning proved to him that he would be lost without her. Yet the captain's offer must be tempting to the mageling, who Fenris knew missed her family desperately despite her denials.

The mageling wrinkled her nose. "Only one more passenger?" she asked, tilting her head to one side.

"Yes," the captain confirmed. He sneered over at Fenris. "So I'm afraid you'll have to leave your elven manservant behind. Never fear, I am certain he'll be able to find employment somewhere else in this city."

"I'm not worried," Hawke said lightly. "Because I'm not leaving Fenris behind. Thank you for your information, captain. Now if you'll excuse us, Fenris and I should best be on our way."

Just like that, his mageling led him away from that blighted captain and the docks of Wycombe. Fenris let out a breath that he hadn't known he had been holding in. He had thought that the offer would have been too good for Hawke to pass up and she would have agreed to leave him behind. Though he was grateful that his mageling had told the ship's captain no, Fenris couldn't help but wonder why she did so. Not only had the captain offered her a chance to question people who had actually been to her small village but he had implied that she would also get a ride back to Ferelden.

Fenris turned that puzzle around in his mind as he followed Hawke back to the inn, so distracted that he couldn't even admire Hawke's figure as he trailed after her. He knew that Hawke missed her family, that there were times that she felt lonely without them. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew that he simply couldn't fill that gap in her life; it was simply too big of a hole for anyone to patch up. That was why Hawke continued to grasp for straws, having readily agreed to his rather weak plan of questioning all of her countrymen that they ran across in case one of them might have news of the family from which she was stolen.

At the inn, Hawke ordered a meal of warm stew and fresh baked bread that the two of them took back to their suite. The pair sat down in the sitting room and ate in silence, with Fenris still agonizing over why Hawke had answered the way she did while the mageling was lost in her own thoughts. Perhaps, Fenris reasoned, Hawke had told the captain no because she wanted to avoid traveling by sea again.

The more Fenris thought about that idea, the more it made sense. Hawke had been desperately ill when they were on Isabela's ship, and she only improved after the ship's cook had started dosing her with ginger tea. While Hawke could be innocent of the ways of the world, she wasn't stupid. She had to know that she would most likely get sick if she sailed again but this time she wouldn't have Fenris at her side to take care of her.

Fenris felt a burst of anger surge through him. This time though his anger was focused inward. He was such a fool to think that Hawke would choose him over her family. Of course, his mageling wouldn't. She loved her family. Whenever she spoke of them, she spoke of them fondly and he could see in her eyes how much she wanted to see them again. Stacked up against that...what chance did he have? None, of course, and only a complete imbecile would believe otherwise.

He stood up from the table. He needed to get away, away from Hawke and all of his stupid desires. Fenris had been such a fool to think that Hawke could ever be interested in someone like him. Though it was obvious Hawke was fond of him, her fondness was for a friend and nothing more. He needed to banish any hopes for something more with her straight away and to do that, he would need a clear head.

"Fenris? Is something wrong?" Hawke asked, peering up at him from her spot at the table.

"Yes…I mean no." Fenris grimaced. "I need to get some air."

His mageling's face twisted up with worry, and before he could leave, she was by his side, pressing a cool hand against his forehead. "Hmm…you're rather flushed but it doesn't seem like you're running a fever. I don't think you're sick."

"That's because I'm not," he told her. "Now if you will excuse me—"

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "I won't. What's wrong, Fenris? I can tell something's been bothering you all day. Are you still put out about this morning? I left you a note. I even showed you where it was when we got back here, but you didn't care to look at it. I am sorry you didn't see it. You know I never meant to worry you and I shan't do it again but—"

Fenris finally had had enough. He couldn't take this any more. "You should have accepted that captain's offer," he said brusquely.

"What?" Hawke's jaw dropped open. "But Fenris! You heard the man! He only had a spot for one, and I'd have to leave you behind."

"So? If you had accepted, you would have been able to question his future passengers. Even if they had no useful information, you still would have had a ride back to Ferelden," he said through gritted teeth.

"I know that, Fenris. But the point remains…I would've had to leave you behind and that's simply unacceptable. We're in this together, right? You said you wouldn't leave me, that we would stay together and I…well I have no intentions of leaving you," said Hawke. She twisted her hands together nervously as she spoke, upset with Fenris' line of questioning.

"Foolishness. Your first loyalty should be to your family," he said.

Hawke bit her lip when he called her out on that, her eyes cast downwards at her feet. "My first loyalty," she said softly, "properly belongs to those I love." Then she looked up and into his eyes. Before Fenris knew what was happening, Hawke stood on her toes and shyly pressed her lips to his.

It was meant to be an innocent kiss, just like Hawke, but Fenris wasn't so pure. His iron control had been pushed to its limits by the emotional gamut he had been through that day, and he had no desire to ignore his longing for his mageling yet again. Quicker than thought, he deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around her with his hands coming to rest under the back of her thighs. His tongue flicked across her smooth lips, seeking entrance, as he instinctively lifted her up, pressing her against the nearest wall, trapping her there so she couldn't escape. Not that Hawke was in any mood to run for the mageling oh-so-willingly opened her mouth underneath his, giving him all the permission he needed to explore.

Fenris shifted about a bit, finding just the right position so he could support Hawke against the wall while leaving his hands free to roam across her curves. His mouth left hers as he kissed his way down her pulse line to where her neck met her shoulder. He lingered at that spot, taking care to leave a mark, while he relished the feel of her softness beneath him. His lyrium tattoos flared blue, being in such close contact with a mage, but the pain he felt was nothing compared to the sheer bliss of finally being able to kiss, to touch his mageling so intimately. Hawke was so tempting that Fenris couldn't help but press himself against her, rolling his hips against her so she could feel just how hard he was for her. His mageling was probably too innocent to know what that meant and Fenris knew that he needed to stop before he lost all control, but before he had the chance to back away, Hawke did something that sealed her fate. It was tentative and faint, but his mageling was matching the slow thrusts of his hips with awkward ones of her own.

His eyes darkened with lust as Fenris realized that despite her inexperience, Hawke wanted this as much as he did. It was wrong. His mageling shouldn't have wanted a bitter, half-mad former elven slave such as he. She was meant for better things. However, if she wanted him, then Fenris did not have it in him to deny her.

Fenris supported her in his arms once more, raising his head up towards her so he could claim another bruising kiss from her. Fused together like that, he carried her from the sitting room and to their bedroom, where he carefully laid her down on his bed. He wasted no time in covering her body with his, kissing her again and again.

His hands had a mind of their own, stripping Hawke of both her new shirt and her breast band while he plowed her mouth with his tongue. Once those impediments were gone, he pulled back so he could admire her. Hawke's breasts were soft and full, but not overly so. A smirk played on his lips and then he slid down so he could properly worship them, placing light, open-mouthed kisses across the top of them. His mageling gave a soft mew of pleasure and arched her back forward, all but inviting him to take a taste. After so many weeks of wanting her, Fenris was in no condition to resist such an offer. Without pausing to think, he bent his head over her right breast.

Fenris traced circles around her breast with his tongue, slowly but surely working his way ever inwards. He reveled in the soft gasps and moans that crossed Hawke's lips. He was only a man and so he couldn't help but take satisfaction in the fact that he was the first to ever introduce Hawke to such pleasures—and as far as he was concerned, there would be no other. Fenris closed his mouth over the hard nub of Hawke's nipple and gently sucked it in, fondling her other breast with his hand all the while.

Hawke's sharp cry was all Fenris needed to know that he had hit upon a particularly sensitive spot for his mageling. Hawke ran her hands through his hair and then pressed him closer to her. "Please Fenris…that…please, please I need…don't stop, don't ever stop," she pleaded.

The elf allowed a smile to cross his face. His mageling was begging so prettily that it was hard for him to tell her no, but he was just getting started. He pulled away from her breast only to start working his magic on the other one. This time, Fenris could feel Hawke trembling in anticipation as he teased with slow kisses and flicking swipes with his tongue. She was wound up tight as a spring by the time he began suckling at her other breast. Within moments, she came undone in his arms, totally lost to the sensations he was inflicting upon her.

Fenris propped himself up on his elbows and watched his mageling as she came down from her high, utterly pleased with himself. "Enjoyed that, did you?" he asked once thought returned to her eyes. Her blush was all the answer he needed. Fenris smirked. "Well trust me, Hawke of mine, it's only going to get better. You're going to like what we're going to do next even more."

He stood up then, shucking himself out of his clothes while his mageling continued to recover. Once that was done, he was on Hawke again, this time getting rid of her skirt along with those pesky smalls. He paused, breathing in deeply to take in the unmistakable scent of Hawke's arousal. "Enticing," he murmured pressing a kiss at the apex of her thighs.

"Fenris," Hawke cried. "Please…don't tease." She reached her hands down to him and he allowed her to pull him back up so that they were face to face. His mageling pushed up against him, her eyes widening as his hard length brushed across her. It thrilled Fenris to be reminded that his mageling had never allowed anyone before him to lay their hands on her delightful little body and all of its tantalizing dips and curves.

Fenris became determined that the next time Hawke came, it would be with him fully sheathed within her.

The elf began playing with her sensitive breasts once more but with a twist. This time, he allowed one hand to trace over her stomach before going down to lightly brush his fingers across her sex. Hawke shuddered at the contact but needed little prodding to part open her legs for him to further explore. He began to suck at her breast in earnest as he slipped a hand between her wet folds, tracing the outline of her entrance with his index finger ever as his thumb sought out her clit and gently nudged against it. Hawke tossed back her head and moaned softly, bucking against his hand to seek out more friction. His mageling was so responsive that it didn't take long for him to bring her to the verge of her orgasm again.

Before she could go over that edge Fenris stopped, stilling his hand while kissing his way up her chest and neck to leave a long, searing kiss upon her lovely lips. He drew back slightly and was amused to see Hawke pouting at him. "Fenris!" she all but wailed. "Please…I…don't tease me, please."

He gave her a lazy grin. "Wouldn't dream of it," he said. "Just tell me what you want, and it shall be done."

She bit her lip and blushed. "You know what I want!" she cried.

He tilted his head to one side and looked at his little mageling. She had back down from the edge and so was ready for more. "Perhaps I do at that," he murmured huskily. Then he bowed his head over her body once more, focusing his attentions on her other breast. He had her near completion in no time, her obvious need for release making the lyrium in his skin sing. Again he stopped and waited for her to come back down, ignoring her enjoinders for him to finish and slipping out of her hands when she tried to clutch his head to her chest. His mageling had driven him mad all day long with want and desire, and now it was time for him to return the favor.

Over and over again, he brought her to the edge only to deny her. He alternated his attentions between each of her breasts and her now dripping sex. She flailed beneath his expert hands, calling and begging for more, but he ignored her until he felt he couldn't take much more of his pace too.

Fenris peered down at his mageling's face. Tears ran down her cheeks, and frustration was writ large in her eyes. He drew close to her so that their noses were practically touching. He aligned his body with hers, teasing her entrance with the tip of his cock, now freely leaking pre-cum, as he reached between them to flick his thumb over her sensitized clit. "You want something of me," he noted, his voice dropping a register as he reveled in her desire for him. "Tell me what it is and you shall have it."

"You," she gasped out, bucking her hips against him. "I want you, Fenris, so please—"

That was close but not close enough. He wanted to hear from her own lips that she wanted him to drive her to completion. "You already have me. Is there something more?" he asked, his voice husky with the want he barely held in.

"Yes, please Fenris, I want you so please…." She licked her lips nervously before continuing. "I want you in me so please, please, please."

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "You want me in you?" He slipped a single finger between her folds. "Like this?"

"More!" she begged him and so he let a second finger join the first. She thrust her hips up against him, eager for more contact.

"You still need more?" he asked.

Hawke shuddered under him. "Please…all of you, I want all of you."

"I doubt that," he said. "I think you want something…more specific." He tilted his head to one side so he could lick the rim of her ear. Fenris moved his hands up to her breasts, kneading them gently as he started to tease her entrance with the tip of his cock, slipping it in slightly before pulling out. He could feel his control slipping and he knew it wouldn't be long before he would have to take her. Before then, however, he was determined to hear her fully voice her desire for him and so he decided to give her some help.

"Perhaps what you meant to say," he whispered to her, his breath warming her ear, "is that you want my cock."

Hawke nodded her head frantically yes.

"Say it," he commanded.

She needed no further prompting so desperate she was to have him. "Please, Fenris, I want…I want your cock—all of it—in me!"

Those words falling from her lips broke the final barrier to his self-control. With a low growl, he pushed inside her. He rubbed Hawke's nipples as he broke through her virgin barrier, to give her a bit of pleasure with the pain. Once fully sheathed, he threw his head back, almost overwhelmed with the sensation of being in his mageling finally. She felt so tight and hot around him that he wondered how he could have lived so long without being inside her. He pulled back, drawing out of her before plunging back in her tight depths, repeating the motion and going faster and faster until he was all but pounding her into the mattress below them. His mouth hovered over her right breast again, leaving a path of open-mouthed kisses all around it while he rolled her nipple between his forefinger and his thumb. He wasn't going to last long but before he went, he wanted to feel his mageling come around him, squeezing him, milking him.

Fenris let his other hand drift down to where he was joined intimately with his mageling. One nudge at her clit was all it took to send her flying over the edge again, her sex constricting around him, drawing his cock further in. That was it for him. Fenris came with a roar, soaking her insides with his seed as he came and came. His lean body was corded with tension as he unleashed all of his pent-up desire at once upon her. His vision blurred as he gave himself over to unimaginable bliss, which seemed to go on forever but could never last long enough.

He pulled out of her when it was over, rolling to one side so he wouldn't crush her. Hawke cuddled up to his side, her arms slipping around him as she laid her head against his chest. He dropped a kiss upon her head, but she was too sleepy to acknowledge it and only sighed as she burrowed deeper into his embrace. Finally sated, Fenris let his weariness draw him into sleep—but not to dream, like his mageling, but rather to remember.


	32. Chapter 29

**Promises: Chapter Twenty-Nine  
><strong>

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

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><p>Fenris woke up abruptly, utterly disoriented. For a moment he had a vision of playing in a courtyard, chasing around a girl with red curls as his mother watched fondly on. The memory was fleeting, however, and Fenris was left with a sense of loss. To have something that he had thought he had lost forever within his grasp only to have it slip away…it was a cruel trick that fate played upon him.<p>

He had long ago given up any hope of recovering his lost memories. The pain from the ritual which had inflicted his markings upon him had been too complete, and when he had awoken afterwards, the only thing he could remember was that pain. Everything else had been wiped away, leaving him a blank slate. Fenris gritted his teeth as he recalled how Danarius had taken advantage of that fact and molded him into cross between a bodyguard and pleasure slave, who only thought of pleasing and protecting his master. He had truly been a slave back then when he spared no thought for his own well-being.

Over time, however, Fenris had gained some knowledge of his past, bits and pieces dropped by others in passing. Hadriana had been a prime source of such tidbits of information although the magister's apprentice had delighted in using what she knew to add to the mental torture she inflicted upon him. The more he learned, the more he grew to hate his position, to despise the master he had once admired. Such knowledge was no balm to soothe his wounded soul but rather a bitter brew that burned him further.

Still the anecdotes that Hadriana had taunted him with could not compare with those fleeting memories of his. Those memories, now lost once more, were his and so not tainted with magic. But then again, maybe they were. Hawke shifted in her sleeping, nuzzling against his shoulder, reminding Fenris that a mage had been at least peripherally involved his short term memory recovery.

Fenris turned so that he could look at his mageling, who was still held in the depths of sleep. He couldn't help but think that it was no coincidence that he had dreamed of his past after he had slept with the mageling. It was frustrating though to have dreamt of his childhood only to forget it again upon waking. It was bad enough that he had lost all his memories once after that ritual; to lose them again verged on being heartbreaking.

He inhaled sharply. This was simply all too much. It was too much for him to handle. His emotions had taken him on a rollercoaster during this last day, with him first fearing that he had lost Hawke to exulting in learning that she was his, his for the taking, only to be shocked hours later by this latest disaster. He couldn't do this right now. Hawke would wake up and beam at him and expect him to be happy when really he was too torn up to muster any sort of positive emotion. Fenris began carefully extracting himself from Hawke's embrace, needing to put some distance between him and the mageling. It wasn't Hawke's fault that any of this had happened, but he just couldn't deal with it right now.

Fenris moved slowly, taking care not to disturb the mageling lest she should waken. Despite his best efforts, Hawke still woke up. "Fenris," said the mageling, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. "Is something wrong?"

"No," he responded gruffly, hoping that she was sleepy enough to accept his answer at face value.

That too didn't work. His tone gave his emotions away, and Hawke was alert in an instant. "Something is wrong!" she cried. She sat up in the bed, drawing up the sheet to cover her breasts. "What is it?" she asked.

"It is nothing," he told her. That wasn't exactly a lie, seeing that was all he could recall of his memories now.

"It's not nothing, is it?" Hawke persisted. She looked down at her hands. "I…was I too forward?" she asked softly. "I didn't…I didn't pressure you, did I? Because I didn't mean to, I just wanted—"

Fenris had to stop that line of thinking right away. "No, you didn't," he said quickly. "You didn't pressure me. If anything, I would think the opposite would be true. I wanted what happened as much as you did if not more."

"But you're upset and trying to leave me…why?" Hawke asked. "Was it something I did? Afterwards perhaps?"

Fenris shook his head fervently. "No, you did nothing wrong," he assured her. He could tell with a single look at her that simple assurances wouldn't be enough to put her fears to rest. He let out a sigh before revealing what bothered him. "After…after we were done, I fell asleep and dreamed…of my past," he said haltingly.

"Oh!" Hawke looked at him through her lashes. "That's not a good thing?" she asked in a hesitating tone, chewing absently at her lower lip.

"I don't remember any more," he replied shortly, upset once more at now having lost his memories of his past twice.

"Oh!" Hawke cried again, her breath catching on that single syllable. "That's…that's horrible!" she exclaimed and then she burst into tears.

Like he had been before, Fenris was at a lost when confronted with Hawke's tears. While he knew he hated to see her like that, he had no idea how to get her to stop crying, especially now when he didn't understand what Hawke was upset about. Thankfully Hawke cleared that up for him, speaking through her tears.

"How awful for you! To remember…only to forget again," she said, her face drawn and worried. "I…I can't imagine how you must feel. That would be like me finding my family again only to have them snatched away before my eyes. I'm sorry, Fenris, I'm so, so sorry." His mageling threw her arms around him in an embrace, letting the cover that had been protecting her modesty fall, and he could feel the wetness of her tears against his bare shoulder. His mageling was as upset about his loss as he was.

Suddenly Fenris tightened his arms around Hawke. He couldn't believe what he had been so close to doing. He had been on the verge of leaving Hawke simply because he was feeling overwhelmed. He had almost walked away from his mageling in a sheer fit over losing his memories once more.

If he had done that, then that would have been the worst mistake of his life, bar none. It was foolish to throw one's hopes of the future away because of past defeats and disappointments. Hawke was his future, the only one he wanted. He couldn't imagine a life without her by his side; he would be lonely and bitter and so much less a man. Hawke kept him sane and grounded. While he had been made bitter by his past in Tevinter, when he was with Hawke, there were times when he could let go of all that anger and hatred. Never completely, not when his old master pursued him so vehemently, but enough so that he realized that it was possible for him to be happy. The effect she had on him was almost purifying in nature.

That thought gave way to another—maybe he had recovered his memories, if only briefly, because of his contact with Hawke. The magic used upon him during the ritual was foul and tainted the way only blood magic could be. Hawke's abhorrence of blood magic was not faked, and so it would stand to reason that her magic was innocent and pure like her. His lyrium brands had reacted last night when he was pressed up against her, but her magic had been warm and welcoming and unlike anything he had ever felt before. Just as her presence was enough to make him a better man, maybe her magic was slowly counteracting whatever foul blood magic had been used on him before.

Whether or not that theory was true, however, was of no consequence in the end. What matter was that he had Hawke and he wasn't about to give her up. Fenris drew her more tightly into his arms, stroking her head with one hand, as she did what he could not and cried for his lost memories.

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><p>Fenris and Hawke didn't leave the inn the next day, both of them exhausted not only from the night's activities but its aftermath. Hawke had gone back to sleep after Fenris had promised her that he would not leave her. He was slightly put out that he hadn't been able to extract a similar promise from her before she had fallen asleep, but he took comfort in having her pressed up against his side with her head resting against his chest. Fenris shifted about, tangling their legs together and encircling her waist with his arm, until he was satisfied that there was no way his mageling could try to leave the bed without waking him.<p>

That turned out to be a good idea for it was his mageling's squirming about that woke him up the next day. He pried open his eyes to see Hawke trying to extricate herself from his grasp. He smiled and then tightened his grip, causing her to look up at him. "Good morning," he said huskily before claiming her lips with a kiss. Hawke all but melted against him, eagerly opening her mouth under his, tempting him to take her once more. Fenris could feel himself hardening at the mere thought of having her again, but before he could do anything about his arousal, Hawke pushed away from him.

"Sorry," she muttered, her eyes downcast. "It's just that…." Her gaze flicked over to the bathroom, and Fenris suddenly understood just why she had been trying to leave their bed. He released her from his grasp and settled back to watch as she rose. A sense of male pride filled him as he saw the love marks he had left on her neck and breasts, all which loudly proclaimed that she was his.

Then Hawke took a faltering step and grimaced slightly, causing Fenris to take another look at his mageling. He saw the bruises he had left last night upon her hip when he had gripped her too hard, the brief moment of pain that crossed her face with each step, and Fenris felt ashamed. His mageling deserved a better man than him. Part of him had forgotten that his mageling was new to sex. It would take her time to recover and then more time for her to adjust to having him within her, but a moment earlier he had been lost to lust and blind to her needs.

He sprang up from the bed. Fenris quickly walked up behind Hawke and lifted her into his arms so that he could carry her to the bathroom. His mageling was shy and self-conscious, and so he waited outside while she relieved herself. When Hawke exited the bathroom, Fenris got to his feet once more and went over to her. "How does a nice, warm bath sound?" he asked her.

"Together?" she replied, her eyes wide and large. He offered her a roguish grin as an answer, causing her to return the smile before nodding her head yes. In a matter of minutes, Fenris had the bath tub filled with warm, soapy water and was stepping into it, his mageling carefully cradled in his arms.

Once they were both enveloped by the bath, Fenris cleaned Hawke with gentle hands, washing away his seed which had leaked and down on to her thighs during the night. When he was done, Hawke returned the favor, all but tearing the wash cloth from his hands. Despite her initial eagerness, however, Hawke was still shy. She blushed when her fingers lightly brushed against his prick even as his eyes darkened with lust.

It was a teasing caress, but Fenris knew that his mageling did not mean it as such. Still he had to do something to tame his growing arousal, to rein it in, and so he turned his attention to her chest. Hawke was blessed to have such breasts that were not only round and full but marvelously sensitive. She moaned in pleasure as he closed his lips around her nipple and suckled at her. It didn't take long until Hawke came apart in his arms from that alone.

Fenris got them both out of the tub as Hawke came down from her high. His mageling blinked up lazily at him as he dried them both off. "Will it always be that good?" she asked him.

"No," he said, lifting her into his arms so he could carry her back to better. "It will be better," he promised. He knew it would with time. There were so many things he had to teach her, to show her, but he had to wait and be patient until she had recovered enough for her next lesson. He laid her down in the bed and then took up the spot beside her. Hawke immediately turned to him and snuggled up against him.

Fenris learned that afternoon that Hawke was incorrigible when it came to cuddling. His mageling craved his touch in a way he didn't quite understand but thought he liked all the same. When he had been a slave, touch meant one of two things—either he was about to be punished for some perceived failing or he was about to receive some rough form of affection from one of the magisters he served. Hawke, however, seemed to take comfort from being so close to him—and as for him, he was happy that he was able to provide such comfort to the woman who somewhere along the line had become his world.

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> My apologies for the late (and somewhat short) update. Unfortunately RL has interfered a bit with my writing schedule. My thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter.


	33. Chapter 30

**Promises: Chapter Thirty  
><strong>

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

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><p>After spending the entire day at the inn, with Fenris the only one of the two venturing outside their room and then just for food, they were both eager to step outside and get some sunlight the next day. Hawke insisted on returning to the market yet again, saying that they would need supplies for the journey. Fenris didn't argue with her because the mageling was right. They couldn't stay in Wycombe forever, with her at risk at being discovered by templars while slave hunters would inevitably come after him. When they left, they needed to have their packs filled with supplies because neither of them knew when they would next get the chance to buy food again.<p>

Fenris stayed behind Hawke as the mageling expertly navigated her way about the market. She still moved a touch slower than usual to his eye, but she was mostly recovered. Almost without thinking, his gaze lingered on the sway of her hips as she walked. Hawke was a tempting beyond words, and Fenris feared that the more he had her, the more he would crave her.

Hawke started her rounds by purchasing dried meat and fresh bread for their packs. Confidence rang in her voice as she expertly negotiated the price down. The effect of the mageling's smile was devastating, and Fenris was pretty sure she knew it from the way she wielded it effectively. The effect only redoubled when they hit the vegetable stalls for Hawke was ecstatic over the sight of so much produce freshly harvested from the fields.

"Turnips!" the mageling exclaimed and bounded over to a nearby stall. She eagerly began digging through them, picking out the best of the lot while chatting with the stall's owner about all the things one could make with turnips. Hawke's enthusiasm was contagious. While Fenris wasn't particularly fond of her cooking, a faint smile crossed his lips as he watched Hawke prattle on and on.

He trailed after Hawke, his hands full with her purchases, as she picked her way through the different produce offerings. It was a difficult position for him. Staying behind Hawke meant that he had little to occupy his thoughts aside from the way her hips swayed while she walked in an almost hypnotizing manner. He noticed not a few men also staring, however, and that was something he did not appreciate. Fenris stepped closer to Hawke, feeling the need to keep his mageling in reach.

Hawke looked up at him over her shoulder. "Oh good," she said. She shoved a full basket into his hands to add to the rest. Then her brow furrowed. "Are you getting tired? I'm almost done here, I swear."

He shook his head. "It is fine," he replied. "Though I do wonder how we'll manage to eat all of this before it goes bad."

She shrugged her shoulders. "Oh I'm not worried about that. I'm sure we'll work up an appetite."

His eyebrows shot up. He hadn't expected such innuendo from Hawke, but then the mageling was full of surprises. "I see. You have some ideas how that might happen no doubt."

Hawke cocked her head to one side and gave him a puzzled look. "Ideas?" Suddenly her face turned bright red and she shook her head furiously no. "I…I didn't mean it like that!" she cried. "It's just that…we'll be out on the road again…I meant that with all the walking we'll be doing, we will naturally be starving by the time dinner rolls around."

That was more like his mageling. A fiercely blushing Hawke was one that was charming and adorable indeed. He found that the opportunity to tease her was too tempting to pass up. "There are other forms of exercise we could indulge in," he told her.

Though her face was still aflame, Hawke wasn't one to back down. "Something tells me that you're thinking of one particular form of exercise." The way she tossed her head at him made him hard, made him want to drop everything he was carrying so he could clasp her to him and never let her go.

A sudden wave of possessiveness washed over Fenris as he realized that he could do exactly that. Hawke was his, in a way, and had been for a very long time. For better or worse, she had tied her fate to his. She was bound to him even as he was bound to her. It was almost not fair to the mageling who clearly deserved the best of men rather than him, but she had made her choice and he would not let another take her from him.

"Let's head back to the inn now," he told her gruffly.

Hawke being Hawke couldn't just agree to that. "Why?" she asked. "I thought you weren't tired."

"Because," he said, his voice dropping a register, "I can't very well kiss you the way I want to kiss you in the middle of the market with my hands full of turnips."

"Oh!" Hawke's face was flushed again, only this time embarrassment was not the sole cause. No, Fenris could tell very well that his mageling was excited at his suggestion from the way she easily acquiesced to returning back to their inn. She stuck close to his side, so close that if his hands were not full, he could wrap an arm around her waist and keep her pressed to him as they walked. He briefly considered switching everything he carried to one hand but decided against it because they would have to stop for him to do so.

When they arrived, she turned towards the staircase to head towards their room but he stopped her. "Let's go to the dining room first, Hawke," he said, his green eyes locking with her blue. "We should order something because I am certain we will work up _quite_ an appetite."

* * *

><p>They took breakfast at the inn the next day, one final meal before they hit the road. Fenris had ordered more than their usual and not just because of all of the appetite-inducing activities they had got up to the night before. He knew that after they left, it would be some time before they stayed at an inn again. That meant when meal time came around either he would have to do the cooking or he would have to eat Hawke's cooking. He wasn't sure which option was less palatable to him. While Hawke's food was tasteless at best, cooking wasn't a chore that Fenris enjoyed at least no when they were on the road. He preferred to rest after a long day's worth of travel, rather than slaving over an open fire.<p>

"You haven't been listening to a word I've said, have you?" Hawke's voice was mildly chiding.

"Apologies," Fenris said. "You were saying?"

The mageling issued a long-suffering sigh before answering. "I asked if you were done with that," she told him, pointing at an almost empty platter in front of him.

He anticipated her question and pushed the platter towards her. "It's yours," he replied. The corner of his mouth twitched up. "Ravenous much? Though I suppose it's no surprise seeing how much…exercise you got last night."

Two pink dots appeared on Hawke's cheeks. "You're one to talk. I've never seen anyone put away so much food. And you must have been really lost in your thoughts because I had my fill twenty minutes ago." She pushed the platter to the other side of the table. Hawke then reached into the pack by her side and pulled out a map. She carefully unrolled the map in front of them, but despite her best efforts, the map started to roll back up. Frowning Hawke picked up the remaining plates and placed them on the four corners of the map to hold it down.

"There!" she said, proudly brushing her hands together. "What I had been saying was that we should think about where we're headed next."

Fenris couldn't resist the urge to tease his mageling a little bit. "But I know where we're going," he told her, resisting the grin tugging at his lips.

She gave him a look. "And where would that be?"

"Away from here," he replied, carefully keeping his face blank even as he secretly cheered inside about being able to use the mageling's own words against her.

Hawke wrinkled her nose. "You think you're funny, don't you? Well you better watch it. I might decide that Zev's my favorite elf after all."

Hawke's words had no bite to them. Fenris knew he had no cause to worry at all. "Is that so?" he asked.

The mageling sighed again. "Well no, not really. But then you already knew that." She tapped the map in front of her. "Anyway to get back to my original subject, I think we should just follow the river, at least as far west as Tantervale. After that, we can head to Wildervale and then Kirkwall if necessary."

"You don't mind going to Kirkwall?" Fenris remembered how hesitant his mageling had been about going to the city renowned as a templar stronghold.

"Well it is the only city that I know has someone who has news about my family. Or rather may have news. Mother never seemed to be that close with my uncle, but they still exchanged letters at least once a year."

"If you're so keen on avoiding the place, wouldn't it make sense to stop at Starkhaven?" asked Fenris.

"Oh but we are! Potentially that is. It's on the Minanter too." Hawke pointed out to rather large dot on the map. "If we can, I would rather avoid it. Partly because of templars again but also because I don't think you would appreciate their cuisine."

"Oh?" Fenris' interest was piqued by that comment. Considering he could down Hawke's food easily now, he wondered what could be so bad about Starkhaven food that Hawke thought that they should avoid it.

"Apparently one of their specialties is fish and egg pie, made with not one but three fish, eggs, and cream." Hawke smirked up at him. "Need I go on? There's this dish called haggis too that's—"

Fenris shuddered at her description. That was a drawback to traveling along a river. Inevitably people would turn to it as a source of food. "That's enough. I would rather not see my breakfast again."

"Oh, I'll second that sentiment," Hawke murmured.

He ignored his mageling's remark. "I understand your objections—and even agree that they have merit—but if it's on our way, then we should stop there. It's a major trading hub. Finding someone who has heard about your town much less your family is like searching for a needle in a haystack. It behooves us to be thorough in the ground we cover. We can't simply pass up the largest city in the Free Marches simply because its inhabitants have an atrocious lack of taste."

Hawke laughed merrily. "I guess I can't argue with that," she said. "If you're willing to brave the less than stellar food choices, then I can brave a few templars. Besides I'll have you there with me to watch out for me. You won't let anyone take me away."

"No," he said, "I won't." He had never spoken truer words. Hawke was _his_ mageling, and he would not suffer having her torn from him. Any fool who tried to part them risked being parted from his own life.

* * *

><p>While Hawke and Fenris soon fell back into many of their old habits once they were finally back on the road, they picked up some new habits as well. When they stopped for the evening that first night, Hawke was ready to volunteer to cook but Fenris preempted her by asking her to set up camp while he started dinner. Surprisingly Hawke didn't protest but rather eagerly turned her attention to that task after she lit the fire for him.<p>

Fenris didn't pay much attention to Hawke as she went about setting up their camp for the evening. The meat had just been rehydrated to his liking when he heard Hawke say softly behind him, "Do you need any help? I'm done with setting everything up."

Hawke's voice had a nervous tone to it as though something was wrong. Fenris whirled around and looked at his mageling critically. She was shuffling around her feet, and there was a pinched, anxious look to her face. He had no idea what she was worried about, and so he scanned the camp for clues as to what troubled her.

His eyes widened upon catching sight of their bedrolls. Fenris normally slept near Hawke. That way he could keep better watch over his mageling. However his mageling had lined them up side by side so they formed one giant bedroll for the two of them to share. He immediately grasped why Hawke did it—after all they had been sharing a bed over the last couple days—but he hadn't expected his mageling to take such initiative.

"Well? Can I help with anything?" Hawke prodded him, her eyes downcast.

While he didn't particularly need any help, Fenris was clever enough to realize that if he refused Hawke's offer, she might think that he was upset about what she had done even though that was far from the truth. Though he hadn't thought much about it, Fenris found that he rather liked keeping his mageling even closer at hand. So to ease her doubts, the elf relented and asked Hawke to help him with the vegetables.

In addition to their new sleeping arrangement, cooking together with Hawke also became a new routine they shared. Hawke liked to pepper him with questions from start to finish. At first that was annoying, but then Fenris realized that Hawke was learning to improve her cooking based on his answers. It got easier to deal with her questions once he knew that she was actually taking his advice. As time went on, he began enjoying cooking with Hawke. The fact that preparing meals went faster when there were two sets of hands available was just an added benefit.

"It looks like that stew is done now," Fenris told Hawke one evening as he watched her mind the pot. He had agreed to let her take the lead and prepare one of her signature dishes, turnip stew.

"You think so?" Hawke tilted her head and poked at one of the turnips. "The turnips are still too hard," she claimed. "They should be softer, like mush."

Fenris closed his eyes and silently counted to ten. Sometimes cooking with Hawke really tried his patience. "The turnips don't have to be that soft, Hawke," he said. "That's why we have teeth—to chew."

The mageling's eyes were unfocused as she considered the truth of his words. Then Hawke's mouth opened, and she let out a small gasp. "Oh! That's true. But if we didn't, then that would be different." She clasped her hands together. "So that's why old Barlin always insisted on cooking everything until it was so soft that it fell apart. He didn't have all that many any teeth and so he couldn't eat it otherwise."

"Old Barlin?" Fenris questioned.

"Oh, Barlin runs the inn at Lothering. He pretends like he's a crotchety old man, but he was always willing to share what he knew about cooking." She bit her lip. "One of the things he told me was that in a stew everything should be the same consistency and color, which means mushy and gray." Hawke smiled up at him as she put out the fire with a chilly blast. "But I'm willing to try things your way. I just have to remember you like things undercooked for future reference."

It was on the tip of Fenris' tongue to reply that he simply preferred food not to be overcooked, but he held that comment back. Instead he noted, "You truly enjoy cooking, don't you, Hawke?"

The mageling nodded her head. "Yes. It's a nice change of pace to do something that's creative and useful rather than destructive. My talents tend to lean to towards that."

"Indeed," Fenris agreed. "Though that's not a bad thing when we're facing down slavers and bandits."

"No, it's not. But those skills aren't really much use when you're living on a farm." A shadow crossed Hawke's face. "I loved it though. I think it sometimes drove my brother Carver mad, the hard work and the slow pace of life, but I loved being able to enjoy each day."

Fenris cleared his throat. He didn't know exactly what to say to that, and so he focused on getting them to finish preparing dinner. Later that evening, however, he noticed that Hawke cuddled closer to him than usual. It wasn't much comfort, but he pressed a kiss against the top of her head as his arms went around her.

While Fenris enjoyed both sleeping with Hawke and cooking with Hawke, there were some changes that weren't so easy to deal with. One of them was his memories. He was beginning to get flashes of his past more and more often and almost always after he had slept with Hawke. It was unnerving to remember something only to forget it minutes later, but over time, there were some that stayed. Simple, hazy things, such as a woman's face and a warm summer day, but it was more than he had before. Fenris wasn't certain if he would ever recover the bulk of his memories, and that was a painful thought. However, as he had decided back in Wycombe, whatever grief he felt at those moments were easily surpassed by the joy that Hawke brought into his life.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> Sorry for taking so long to update. Transition chapters aren't easy for me to write to begin with, but RL not cooperating just made things worse. Hopefully the next chapter won't take as long. Anyway my thanks to all of you still reading this and especially those of you kind enough to review. :D


	34. Chapter 31

**Promises: Chapter Thirty-One  
><strong>

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

* * *

><p>Fenris remained several steps behind Hawke, like any good bodyguard would, while the mageling chatted up the merchant. The two of them were in a small town a few days east of Ansburg in order to resupply. Hawke was also hoping to find a small job for them. While Fenris wished his mageling all the luck in the world, he wasn't about to hold his breath. The pair still took on side jobs when they could find them so they could stretch the coin they earned from their days with Zevran even longer, but so far the jobs they had were few and far between.<p>

As such, they needed to be frugal and watch every coin they spent. Fenris gritted his teeth when Hawke laughed at a stupid joke the merchant had made. He knew that she was doing it on purpose in order to appear more friendly and approachable. That didn't mean he had to like the fact that the merchant now thought that he had a chance with the mageling.

That was what Fenris hated most when they ventured into towns and villages. He had told Hawke himself that it was best for him to pretend to be her servant when they went into human settlements. It was one thing for a lady to be traveling with an elven bodyguard for protection; it was another for a woman of Hawke's beauty to be openly paired with an elf, especially an elf that looked as odd as him. Hawke hadn't liked his suggestion but had caved to it after he had pointed out that the last thing they needed was to stick out any more than they already did.

Right now he was having trouble convincing himself that his idea was a good one. He saw how the bloody merchant was looking at Hawke as though she was a particularly tempting morsel that he would like to get his hands on. He almost wished that the idiot would try because that would give Fenris all the excuse he needed to lash out at the man.

He was roused from his rather vicious thoughts by a bag being shoved into his hands. "Could you hold that please, Fenris?" Hawke asked. "It's a tad on the heavy side for me."

Fenris grunted his agreement, but Hawke had already turned her attention back to the merchant and was asking directions to the inn. The bag was heavy considering how little coin Hawke had handed over. He knew that Hawke was doing everything in her power in order to stretch their money now that jobs were getting harder to find. He also knew that Hawke meant nothing when she flirted with the different merchants, that it was simply another tool in her arsenal.

He knew all this, but he still felt the urge to make it crystal clear to each and every idiot in this wretched town that Hawke was his and his alone. Especially right now with all the innuendo the blasted merchant was tossing around.

"No, no. You can't possibly get lost. The inn's at the end of high street. It's impossible to miss," the merchant told Hawke. "I often go there for dinner myself at the end of a long, hard day. Perhaps we'll see each other there. I wouldn't mind getting to know you better," he concluded.

"The inn seems to be a popular place to eat. You wouldn't believe how often I've heard people say that today," Hawke replied smoothly. "I hope that Fenris and I will be able to find a spot in the dining room, otherwise we'll just have to eat in our room." She favored the preening merchant with another smile as she bid him goodbye, and the fool was none the wiser about being rejected. Fenris supposed Hawke's approach was acceptable, but it was a tad too diplomatic for his liking. He would have preferred for his mageling to make it clear that she wasn't interested in the other man at all.

However the next words out of Hawke's mouth were a small consolation. "What is it with people today?" she asked Fenris, her voice full of irritation. "This town must not get a lot of visitors, because it seems like everyone I've talked to wants to get to know me better."

The elf bit back a chuckle. Evidently that piece of innuendo had went over Hawke's head. His mageling had a lot to learn. "I take it you don't want to dine in the inn's common room tonight," he noted.

"Not particularly, but we will." Hawke heaved a sigh. "It's a long shot, but I can't help but hope that we'll run across a potential job. We've not had one in over a week. I'm almost desperate enough to check out the chanter's board."

"Chanter's board? What's that?" he asked.

Hawke gave him a surprised look, but then went on to explain how each chantry kept a job board of sorts that was watched over by a chanter. "There's always a fee associated with each job. How much depends on who the job is for. If it's for a local lord, you might earn a sovereign or two, but if you're just running supplies to widow who lives outside of town, you'll be lucky to get ten silvers."

"I see," Fenris said. "As far as I know, the Chantry in Tevinter keeps no such board, but then I never had much time to explore any chantries there." He didn't add that even if he had come across a chanter's board in Tevinter, it would have done him no good because he couldn't read.

"Is that so? I guess that shouldn't surprise me. In any case, I was hoping that we wouldn't have to rely on the chanter's board for work. Usually they're up near the front of the chantry but still…templars tend to linger around chantries as well." Hawke wrinkled her nose at the thought, obviously not at ease with the idea of getting too close to any templars.

It was a sensible attitude for an apostate who had a safe and secure home, but not for one trampling through Thedas on limited funds. "We're going to have to find a way to bring in funds eventually, Hawke, and preferably before we grow desperate. Besides, as it is said in Tevinter, _audaces fortuna iuvat_." At Hawke's blank look, he translated, "Fortune favors the bold."

"Really? I prefer to think that it favors the sneaky. Bold too often translates into stupid as far as I can tell."

Fenris gave her a look. That line of hers sounded as though it could have come straight out of Zevran's mouth. Clearly the assassin had left a lasting influence on Hawke, but if it meant she was able to joke when confronted with one of her fears, then Fenris supposed it wasn't all bad. That was one of the few good things about the assassin's character; he never let fear paralyze him.

"All right, all right, I get it. No need to glare me into submission," Hawke stated. She threw up her hands, indicating her surrender. "If we don't find any leads for work tonight, we'll check out the chanter's board." Then she grinned. "First thing tomorrow, during the morning service. We're much less likely to encounter templars then. You may be right about fortune favoring the bold, but as for me, I prefer to make my own luck."

The two of them started towards the inn, checking out the weapons and armor stalls which were on their way. The edge on Fenris' sword was once again getting dull, and so he had it sharpened. The blacksmith clucked his tongue sadly and pointed his own goods out to the elf. "This sword of yours, while finely made, has seen better days. You would be better served by getting a new blade," the blacksmith said.

Fenris wasn't insulted because he knew the blacksmith was being honest and not simply fishing for another sale. "I have been keeping an eye out for a sword to replace this one. However, I've yet to find a sword that is as well-suited towards me. Most greatswords are made for humans or dwarves to wield, not elves," said the elf.

"Aye, it is unusual for an elf to use a greatsword but not unheard of. How long will you be in town?" asked the blacksmith. "Given time, I can make one perfectly balanced for you."

"Not long enough, I fear, as we will only be here for a day or two at most. I imagine the process would take weeks, if not months."

"It would take time though perhaps not as long as you might think. I daresay I could forge a proper sword for you in less than two months. Not that it matters though seeing as you're not staying that long," the blacksmith noted with a shrug of his shoulders. "You'll have to stop eventually to have one made. Here's as good a place as any, I'd think."

Fenris grimaced slightly. The blacksmith had a point. His sword was showing its age, and he needed to have it replaced, preferably before it failed him during a battle. That being said, Fenris wasn't desperate enough for a new blade to stop for that long just yet. "That may be true but I am hoping that I'll be fortunate enough to run across one with the right heft and balance before it comes to that."

"I wish you luck with that quest," the blacksmith replied genially. "If I were you, I'd stop at Starkhaven during their summer festival. Lots of merchants in the city then, hawking their wares. That's the time and the place that you're most likely to find something that suits you."

Fenris nodded his head. That was a sensible suggestion. "Thank you for the advice, my friend." He handed the blacksmith a few extra coins for his information. "I will keep that in mind in case I'm near Starkhaven then."

Fenris walked away from the blacksmith and towards the inn, lost in thought His distraction gave Hawke the opportunity to drop in step alongside him. "So it seems like we will be heading to Starkhaven after all?" she prodded him.

"That is beginning to become more of a certainty. It appears that the more we travel, the more reasons we're given to head towards that city."

"Despite its inhabitants' lack of taste?" Hawke grinned up at him. "Well here's hoping that if we do wind up there, that we'll survive their cuisine."

"I'll be happy just to survive the food tonight," Fenris grumbled as they reached the inn. "Why is it that the special at so many of the towns we stop at is fish?"

"Well we are traveling alongside the river. I imagine fish is popular here because it is cheap and easy to get." Hawke craned her neck around the inn's common room until she spied a large board. "And you're in luck. This place has two specials. While one is indeed the fish stew you feared, you'll be happy to hear that the other is some sort of meat atop a mound of potatoes."

"That probably translates into a mound of potatoes with a sliver of mystery meat," the elf pointed out.

Hawke shook her head at his grumbling as she led them to a free table in the common room. "But so long as the meat isn't fish, you shouldn't complain. Too much that is. Have I ever told you that you're the pickiest eater I've ever run across? And that includes my brother, who was always a giant prat and refused to eat anything I had a hand in preparing." The mageling took her seat, grimacing at that memory of her brother.

Fenris coughed nervously before taking the seat beside her. He could certainly understand why Hawke's younger brother might take such a stand, especially when he remembered how bad Hawke's cooking had been the first time he had tried it, but the elf knew better than to say that. "Tact isn't one of your brother's strong points, I see."

"No. It's not. His complete lack of tact is one of the most notable things about my dear little brother. I suppose Bethany and her diplomacy makes up for him though." Then Hawke shot him a sweet smile that did not bode well for him. "Don't think that I didn't notice how you didn't immediately leap to chastise him for not trying my cooking."

Fenris kept his face blank. "What would be the point?" he asked. "It's not as though your brother is here," he added quickly, sensing the need to bolster his argument. "Besides who am I to criticize another person for being picky when I've been informed by a lady who I hold in high regard that I am the pickiest eater she has ever met?"

That was enough to send his mageling blushing and quite charmingly at that. "You…you hold me in high regard?" she asked.

"Isn't that obvious?" he replied. "I guess it must not be if you're asking. I will have to remedy that situation later on tonight," he mused aloud, loving how Hawke's blush only deepened as she caught on to his meaning. Before the mageling could sort out a suitable response, however, their server came over and asked what they would like. Hawke struggled to regain her composure enough to place their order with the server, almost stammering as she requested two helpings of the potatoes with a side of mystery meat.

Of course, the fact that Fenris had chosen that moment to lay his hand upon her thigh, letting it drift up and under the short skirt she had chosen to tempt him with today probably didn't help Hawke in her endeavors. Hawke made that much clear when she slapped his hand away from her. "Fenris," she chided him. "Do you mind?"

He chuckled. "There is one thing I should warn you about. You can only tempt an elf so much before he jumps in and takes the bait," he told her. After spending the entire day alternating between admiring the sway of her hips as she walked and gritting his teeth as she charmed merchants into giving discounts, he was near the end of his self-control.

This time his mageling had an answer for him. "Is this your way of telling me that I had best not ask for seconds tonight?" Though her cheeks were stained red, her chin was tilted up and she stared challengingly back at him.

"Of dinner? Yes. But as for dessert—" He let his eyes travel along her body, lingering over the swell of her breasts. He grinned at her. "Let's just say that I hope you're prepared for thirds."

Thankfully Hawke got the point. Though they didn't force their food down, the two of them didn't exactly take their time either. Once they had finished, Fenris stood up, eager to turn in for the evening. He extended a hand to Hawke, helping her to rise, and then ever so thoughtfully herded her towards the direction of the innkeeper by grinding his hips against her arse so she could feel just how ready he was to have her. That was all the prodding Hawke needed.

Fenris all but pounced upon her as soon as they crossed the threshold of their room. He slammed the door behind them in his eagerness to taste his mageling at long last. He kissed her fiercely and glued his body to hers, pressing her against the nearest wall. His hands traced her curves, skimming past the lines of her breasts and the fullness of her hips and to the edge of her skirt. The sensation of her skin against the pads of his fingers was intoxicating. The elf was glad that he hadn't bothered with his gauntlets today. That was one less barrier he needed to shed in order to touch Hawke. He was also glad that his mageling had chosen to wear a skirt today rather than a set of trousers as that option provided him with so much more access.

The elf pushed Hawke's smalls to one side. He brushed his hand against the apex of her thighs before gently dipping one finger in between her folds to test her readiness. He found her wet and wanting. Uttering a small cry, Hawke thrust her hips up in search of more contact. Fenris arched his head to one side so that his lips were next to Hawke's ear. "Seems like someone's been having naughty thoughts," he told her and then softly kissed the tip of her ear.

"Fenris!" Hawke mewled. "Don't tease me please!"

"Don't tease you?" he repeated back to her. "Why should I? Not when you've been teasing me all day with your swaying hips and your long legs."

"I wasn't teasing you," she protested. "I can't help…can't help it if you've a…a dirty mind." She gasped sharply as Fenris kissed his way down her neck—taking his time, enjoying the slight saltiness of her skin—stopping only when he reached what he had come to consider his spot, that place right above where her shoulder and neck met.

"You weren't teasing me, hm? Not even when you were flirting so flagrantly with those merchants before me?" Fenris pointed out, his over her pulse point.

Hawke shook her head vigorously from side to side. "No, I wasn't and you know it too. It didn't mean anything, not when the only one I want is you."

Though he had heard Hawke voice such a sentiment many times over the last few weeks, Fenris' heart still leapt for joy to hear her say those words. It stoked his pride while soothing his soul to know that Hawke longed for no man but him. "Good," he told her fiercely, "because you won't ever have anyone but me." His patience at an end, and with him needing her as much as she needed him, he lifted her up against the wall, guiding her legs so that they rested on either side of his hips. It took the work of a moment for him to free his erection from his leggings and his smalls, and then he drove home, sheathing himself fully in her warm depths as his mouth clamped down on Hawke's neck.

Hawke tossed her head back and moaned as her inner walls tightened all around him. Fenris shared her ecstasy, overwhelmed at how right it felt to be tucked away so deeply in her. He had been tempted to do this all day—to drag Hawke into a nearby alley and take her u against the nearest wall, staking his claim so that there would be no doubt just who the mageling belonged to—and from his mageling's reaction, she wanted this too. Fenris wasn't about to deny either of them the pleasure of finally being connected once more.

He set a brutal pace, his hips snapping against hers, giving her no quarter as he pounded her against the wall. Hawke did not protest but rather encouraged him to go faster and harder, wrapping her legs around him, meeting his thrusts with ones of her own, her eyes glazed over with pleasure. After an entire day spent dreaming of this moment, Fenris was in no mood to draw things out. He angled his thrusts into Hawke, driving ever deeper, and his mouth left Hawke's neck to latch on to her breast. No sooner did he start sucking at her then she let out a great cry, her legs squeezing him as her sex tightened around him like a vise, drawing him deeper in. That was all Fenris needed to find his release. He came violently, his cock surging into her as he filled her to the brim with his seed.

It took Fenris a few minutes to recover. He glanced up at Hawke from his spot on her breast. She had a wicked smile on her lips. "You promised me seconds, right?" she asked.

He slipped out of her and then stepped away from her, letting her down from the wall gently. "Actually, my dear, I believe I promised you thirds." Then he hoisted her into his arms and carried her to the bed where he proceeded to prove that he kept his promises.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> Sorry for this update taking so long. I would blame certain characters getting too frisky and refusing to move on, but the truth of the matter is, the end of the semester was busy. But on the bright side, at least it's over now. :D


	35. Chapter 32

**Promises: Chapter Thirty-Two  
><strong>

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

* * *

><p>Fenris watched the next morning as Hawke bustled over their packs, checking to see that everything was in its place. The two of them were going to set off to visit the chanter's board to see if they could find any work. However both Fenris and Hawke were of the same mind when it came to being prepared. Hawke had suggested and Fenris had readily agreed that they should be ready to leave in a hurry in case things went south. They had finished putting away everything a while ago, but Hawke had insisted on double checking to make sure nothing had been forgotten.<p>

It was a practice that Fenris would normally endorse, but this time, he couldn't help but wonder when Hawke would take care of one last, glaring detail.

"All right, what is it?" Hawke asked him, twitching her nose. "You've been glaring at me for the last ten minutes. I'm keeping everything in order, I promise you—"

"It's not that," Fenris interrupted her. He had never had a problem with the mageling's neatness; if anything, she liked to keep things more orderly than him. "I was thinking that you had better take care of that sooner than later," he told her. He gestured towards her neck at the rather prominent love mark he had left on her neck.

Hawke lifted up a hand to rub at it, a wistful smile on her face. "I don't know what you expect me to do about this, Fenris," she said. There was a faraway look to her eyes, and he could tell she was thinking of how they had spent the night before. He swallowed a breath. Seeing her like that—not only remembering everything he had done to her the night before but wanting more of the same—it was hard for him to think of anything except taking her again.

It was not the appropriate time for such thoughts however. If there was no work for them in this village, then it would be best for them to move on to someplace where they could make some coin. So Fenris pushed such temptations aside and focused on bringing his mageling's attention back to the present too. "Don't be obtuse, Hawke," he said. "Aren't you going to heal it?"

"No actually, I'm not."

Both of Fenris' eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"I know you're not hard of hearing, but because it's you who's asking I'll repeat myself just the same. I said I'm not going to heal it."

Fenris couldn't believe his ears. A shiver of delight ran down his spine at the thought of Hawke walking about, his mark uncovered for all to see. If she paraded herself around like that everyone who saw it would know that she was claimed. That idea was intoxicating, but he pushed those thoughts down. It simply wasn't practical for Hawke to do something like that. While he liked very much seeing his mark on Hawke, it simply wouldn't do for her to keep it when they were going about town. People would naturally notice it and stare and maybe even talk about what a strange pair they made. Such notoriety was the last thing they needed.

"Hawke," Fenris said patiently, silently hoping that his mageling wouldn't be too stubborn about this. "You have to heal it. It will not do for you to be seen with such a…such a…."

"An obvious token of affection?" Hawke finished for him. She batted her eyelashes flirtatiously at him, but he refused to be moved on this subject.

"That's one way to put it," he said. "People will talk Hawke, and who knows who might overhear them. The last thing we need is to stir up gossip in every town we visit."

"I know that, Fenris. But we're already a rather memorable pair. It's not every day that you see an elf like yourself wielding a giant sword. For that matter, my cover as an impoverished noble isn't exactly the best there is if you're trying to avoid notice."

Hawke had a point. Fenris had to give her that. However, just because they couldn't fade into the background, didn't mean that it was all right for them to go ahead and make spectacles of themselves. "Fine, Hawke. I'll agree that an elf that looks as strange as I do or a lady who is as beautiful as you are—"

"Wait! You think I'm beautiful?"

Fenris blinked. Hawke was looking hopefully at him, waiting for his reply with bated breath. It was such an odd question for the mageling to ask. Of course, she was beautiful. She was simply the one of the loveliest women he had ever met. "It's a fact that you're a stunning woman, Hawke."

"Yes, but usually when people say that, they're referring to my lightning spells."

"Let me guess. When you say they, you mean your brother." Hawke nodded her head. Fenris held back a sigh. "I would hardly think your brother is an unbiased observer," he noted.

"Well, no, he's not. He tends to think the worst of me, actually. But that being said…you really think I'm beautiful."

Fenris looked sharply at Hawke to confirm that she wasn't just fishing for compliments. As far as he could tell—and he liked to think that he had learned to read the mageling very well since they met—Hawke was sincere in her questions. "Yes, you're beautiful," he said. "You must know that. This can't be the first time you've heard such a thing."

Hawke wrinkled her nose. "You've said as much before, and I suppose that's all that matters. Father and Mother have also told me the same, but they don't count because they're my parents and they're supposed to say things like that."

"But you must have had suitors before? Surely they must have paid you numerous compliments on your looks." Though Fenris knew that Hawke had been a virgin, the men in her village would have to be blind not to pursue a maiden as lovely and charming as she.

However Hawke shook her head from side to side. "No, I've never had a beau. I honestly don't know if anyone was interested or not. I was an apostate, you see. Father taught Bethany and I that we had to keep our magic a secret from everyone else, that we could only trust our family."

"I see." Fenris coughed nervously. He suddenly felt kind of pervy with the way he had been unable to keep his eyes off of Hawke's figure from the start. He knew that other men stared at Hawke at the same way, but apparently he was the only one who had ever acted on that attraction. Not that there was anything wrong with that; knowing that he was Hawke's one and only was satisfying in its own way.

"I think we've ventured far off topic though," Fenris said, more to himself and his wandering thoughts than to his mageling. "I was going to say that our disguise has served us well in the past and I see no reason why it wouldn't continue to serve us just as well in the future."

"We're in a different country for one," Hawke replied promptly. "You have to admit that Antiva was a strange place. I don't think we were ever bothered too much mainly because that's not what people do if they want to keep on living in Antiva. Besides we were with a Crow for most of the time there. If he pulled strings to keep the templars away from us, who knows what else he did behind the scenes?"

"But the Free Marches are different from Antiva," Hawke continued on blithely. "More like Ferelden, I think. The explanation that you're the only servant my family could afford wouldn't work in Ferelden. There a lady always had at least a maid with her, and if she was seen traveling with only an male elf for company, most people would assume," a pale blush covered the mageling's cheeks, "well most people would assume that she was intimate with him."

"Which you are," Fenris couldn't resist saying.

"Yes. Frequently," Hawke agreed, her blush deepening. "But my point is that people will assume we're together anyway. I don't see the harm in confirming their suspicions. Maybe that will make them talk more, maybe that will make them talk less, but on the balance, I don't think it will make much of a difference. Besides maybe we'll gain the odd ally that way if they think I'm running away from my family to be with my one true love."

Fenris snorted at that romantic backstory that Hawke suggested. "Nothing could be further from the truth," he murmured.

"Not entirely. I mean, I am trying to get back to my family rather than run from them. But I like to think that…never mind." Hawke bit her lip and ducked her head, her hand rising up to trace the mark on her neck. She spoke up again before Fenris could question her on what she had been going to say. "In any event, I think it's best I leave my skin as it is. We're going to the chanter's board. Which is by the chantry, in case I've forgotten to mention that. Perhaps it's different in Tevinter, but here there are usually templars around chantries. I don't want to use magic and have it linger around me in case we run into one."

With that, Hawke effectively disarmed Fenris. He turned her argument about in his head, trying to find a weakness, but in the end, he concluded the mageling was right. "That makes sense," he concluded.

"You don't have to sound so surprised, Fenris, Even I have sense once in a while."

The elf shook his head at that remark. "No, it's more often than that." The mageling was clever, if maybe a little naïve, and common sense was not something that she lacked. His gaze fell upon Hawke, lingering over his mark that she would wear openly today. His mind clouded over with lust. As before, the mere idea of her parading around with his mark in plain sight did things to him. The urge to take her then and there struck him with sudden urgency. He adored his mageling, and even though he wasn't ready to give voice that emotion, he still wanted her to know just how much he cared for her.

However, Hawke herself had other ideas. She turned her attention away from him, satisfied that she had won their little debate, and finished checking their packs as he stood there contemplating how much time they had to spare for more bedroom exercise. Then before he could act on his desires, she thrust one of the packs into his hands.

"There," she said. "We had best get going. The morning chant will start soon, and I would like to see the chanter's board then."

Fenris held back a grimace. It was his own damn fault for just standing there rather than distracting Hawke from her task. "Is there really such a need to rush?" he asked. His eyes darted back and forth. He could pounce on her, he supposed, and pin her to the wall again.

"I believe I just told you why. Now come on. If we hurry, maybe we can stop by the baker for some fresh bread." Then Hawke cocked her head to one side and smiled cheekily up at him "I don't know about you, but I find that I'm rather hungry after all the exercise we got last night."

Just like that, his arousal deflated. Fenris silently cursed himself for not thinking about that. Of course, Hawke wanted to eat. She didn't have his stamina—yet—and what was more, she hadn't ever had to go without food when she was hungry. He would never wish the sorts of punishment he had to endure, the days his meals had been withheld from him because of some magister's whim, upon Hawke. That meant that he needed to remember in the future that his mageling was used to eating after vigorously exerting herself.

His plans for a morning lie in now laying in shambles, Fenris slung his pack across his shoulder and followed his mageling out the door. Hawke had no problems navigating through the end. She easily found her way from their room to the inn's entrance. She paused once she was outside however. "I think the baker I saw was that way," she remarked pointing to the left. "But I'm not entirely sure."

Fenris looked down the street, trying to pick out any signs of a bakery being down it. Then he shrugged his shoulders. "I don't remember seeing a baker so we'll have to trust your instincts. We can rely on our noses if it comes down to it."

"Brilliant idea!" Hawke exclaimed. She set off purposefully. Though she walked at a fast pace, Fenris was able to keep up with her with ease. Feeling the stares of the townspeople upon them, he decided to walk by her today rather than a few steps behind. He was willing to bet that the love mark on her neck had been sighted, and that people were putting two and two together about the true nature of their relationship. He knew that gossip was inevitable, but he hoped that would be the end of it. However he couldn't be too careful. Hawke was a beautiful woman, and most would assume that she could do much better than him. While Fenris could understand such a sentiment—even now he had trouble believing that Hawke not only wanted him but was happy to be with him—he wasn't about to give Hawke up to anyone.

Hawke's memory turned out to be correct. The baker was located just down the road, and the stall was marked by a small line standing beside it. The two of them got in the line, which moved at a quick pace. It took them longer to buy the bread though once they got to the front of the line. The baker named an obscene price for a single loaf of bread, his gaze flicking over first to Hawke and then to the elf standing resolutely at her side. Hawke merely wrinkled her nose in response and set about convincing the man into being more reasonable about the worth of his wares. It always amazed Fenris to see just how potent Hawke's charm could be when she put her mind to it. In a matter of minutes, they were walking away from the baker's stall with several piping loaves in his pack and another in Hawke's hands.

The couple split that last loaf of bread between them as they continued on to the town's chantry. They caught sight of the chantry after they walked along the town's high street for several minutes. The chantry was the largest building in town, its steeple towering over everything else, and was surrounded by a small stone fence. Despite that, it seemed a little small and dreary to Fenris' eye when compared to the chantries in Tevinter, but somehow its aura was infinitely more welcoming.

As Hawke had planned, the outside of the chantry was mostly abandoned when they arrived because everyone was inside for the morning chant. Just inside the chantry's fence was a large board, which Fenris surmised this was their destination. A sole priest stood by the board, his eyes watching them as they approached. To Fenris' surprise, the priest didn't issue a standard greeting when Hawke trotted up to the board and instead quoted from the chant of light.

"Chanters are priests who have sworn to speak the chant and nothing else," Hawke murmured under her breath, answering his unspoken question. "Now let's see….are there any interesting jobs." She pulled a face. "Hmm…looks like a farmer needs some help with his harvest but that's not exactly our specialty Oh! Someone wants an erstwhile daughter to be tracked down after running away with a bard…the pay's good, but something tells me there is more to the story there."

"Isn't there always?" Fenris muttered. He wished that he could peruse the board as well rather than relying on Hawke to find a decent job for them. If he could read, he was certain that this task would go much faster.

Hawke continued to scan the chanter's board, clucking her tongue at the selection. She pointed out the more amusing ones, like the one whose owner needed help exorcising the ghost of a dead chicken. Fenris had to wonder just who was allowing such a ridiculous item to be posted. He glanced over at the chanter, who seemed to be of sound mind. Perhaps the chanter had a soft heart, Fenris thought, and so allowed sillier jobs to be posted to the board than he should.

A glint of armor caught Fenris' eyes. He looked discreetly in that direction and then mentally swore. A templar was now patrolling the chantry's grounds and was heading their way.

"If there aren't any promising jobs, we had best be on our way, Hawke," said Fenris. "We can always try the chanter's board at the next town," he added with some urgency. The templar had caught side of them and was now headed their way.

"Just one moment," said Hawke. She bent over. "There's this one last posting that I want to read. Hmm…no pay is offered but—"

"If we're not getting paid, then we're not interested," Fenris said sharply. "We're not so well off that we can risk our lives for a charity case."

Hawke straightened up, a hurt expression on her face. "But Fenris—"

He shook his head and then took her by the elbow. "If that's all, then we had best get going, Hawke." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Before we outstay our welcome," he told her urgently.

Hawke's eyes widened as she grasped his meaning. However it was too late. The templar was now within earshot and hailed them both promptly. "Good morning!" the templar called out. "A bit late for the morning chant, aren't we?" he noted as he sidled up to them.

Out of habit, Fenris inserted himself between Hawke and the templar. However Hawke peeked out from behind him and answered the templar, rather than fading into the background like she should have. "Oh yes, I know. We're just passing through town and so we didn't know when the morning chant would start," she replied. It was remarkable how steady her voice was considering who she was talking to. "I never liked interrupting the chant after it got started. I thought we might as well check out the chanter's board rather than waste the trip here."

"A trip to the chantry is never a waste," the templar proclaimed. "Although the two of you seemed to be arguing over which job to take. If you don't mind my asking, which ones interested you?"

"None of them," was Fenris' response.

"The last one about the poor kidnapped Fereldan lad," Hawke said at the same time.

"I see," said the templar. "Hence the argument, I assume. Not so fond of risking your own neck without no recompense, are you?"

The tips of Fenris' ears burned, but he wasn't about to let this templar lecture him. "No, I'm not. If whoever posted that job can't be bothered to rescue the boy, I don't see why we should."

"It's not so much as I can't be bothered but rather I'm bound by my duty to protect the chantry here from any rogue apostates who might show up," the templar replied. Though his tone was light and there was a smile on his face, a chill still ran down Fenris' back. Somehow he got the feeling that Hawke's precautions about limiting her use of magic this morning were for naught. This templar knew just what Hawke was.

"If you're the person who wrote that post, do you have any more information? I mean it is rather vague the way it mentions rumors about bandits holding the boy captive in some nearby caves," Hawke spoke up. That was enough to break up the uneasy silence that had settled over them.

"Unfortunately I do not. I heard the tale from a few peasants who came to the chant last evening. The bandits had a prisoner and were armed, and so naturally they all stayed out of the way."

"Then how do you know who was captured?" Hawke asked.

"It is a bit of supposition on my part. I heard from my colleagues in Ansburg about how a Fereldan noble's son had been kidnapped by bandits a couple days ago. It seems entirely likely that these two events are connected, which is why I made the posting on the board. As I said, I would check it out myself if the chantry didn't need guarding. Or so the Reverend Mother insists." The templar's eyes cut over to Hawke. "I suppose she has a valid point. One must always be vigilant. Who knows when an apostate might show up?"

Fenris did not appreciate the unspoken threat to his mageling. His hand drifted towards his sword. "One lone templar against an apostate isn't much of a force," he noted.

"Especially if said apostate has a warrior guarding her," the templar agreed readily. "However I doubt the townspeople would look kindly upon such an apostate and her guardian once I raise the hue and cry."

Fenris narrowed his eyes. The idea of having to fight their way out of town didn't appeal to them. However it was beginning to look like they didn't have much of a choice. "That would be unfortunate. I imagine that a lot of the townspeople would wind up hurt in such a scenario."

"And I doubt the apostate and her guardian would escape with their lives," the templar replied.

"And that would just prove that you're both idiots," Hawke huffed from her place behind the elven warrior. She sighed and then tugged at Fenris' arm. "Fenris!" she cried. "We can't just go on and leave without checking to see if that poor child needs help. I mean I was captured by slavers once and no one came for me and it was…well let's just say it was scary. I can't imagine how frightened this child must be, alone and so far from home already."

"The lady has a kind heart," the templar noted clinically. "One that will serve both her and her guardian well."

Fenris sighed heavily. He was going to lose this argument. It would have been hard enough to convince Hawke not to go and help the kidnapped child, but with the templar practically blackmailing them to go, he had no chance at winning. "Very well," he finally said. "Although directions to this bandit-filled cave would be most helpful."

"I will do you one better. I have a map," the templar said. He pulled out a map from somewhere inside his armor and unfolded it. Then the templar pointed out both where they currently were and where the cave was located. Thankfully the cave was only half a day's walk out of town and so they wouldn't be going too far out of their way.

"If it turns out that the bandits are more than you can handle, then please don't try anything heroic and stupid," the templar told them as he folded up the map and handed it over to Hawke. "And that goes double if you come across any blood mages amongst them. Come back here and ask for help. Ser Thomas is my name."

"So you can't leave your post to rescue a kidnapped boy but you can to chase after blood mages?" Hawke asked.

"Confirmed sightings, yes, because then my duty to safeguard the populace from blood magic takes precedence over everything else. And who better to recognize such foul magic than another mage?"

Hawke let out a gasp and then lifted her chin, her eyes blazing with defiance. "I have no knowledge of such atrocities," she said quietly but firmly. "Nor do I wish to have any."

"I know. If there was any such taint muddling your magic, my sword would have already left its sheath and been on its way to your heart," the templar replied. "Your control is marvelous for one so young and not circle trained. Had it not been for your guardian's nervous behavior, I doubt I would have noticed it. "

"So if you noticed it, then why are you—"

"I see little good in confining a trained mage who abhors blood magic while seeking to aid others. I wish you good luck on your quest. Hopefully you won't need it." The templar's words were a clear dismissal, and both Fenris and Hawke were eager to get away.

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> Look, it's another update and sooner than the last. Or so I think. Anyway thanks for reading and I hope you've enjoyed this chapter. As for everyone kind enough to review the last chapter-you all are the greatest. Seriously. Reviews always bring a smile to my face. :D


	36. Chapter 33

**Promises: Chapter Thirty-Three  
><strong>

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

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><p>After that encounter at the chantry, both Hawke and Fenris were eager to get some distance between themselves and that templar. So it was that they reached the cave the templar had directed them to just a little past midday. "Oh! Now that cave looks ever so welcoming," said Hawke, her voice full of sarcasm as the two of them stood upon a small hill overlooking the cave's entrance.<p>

"And here I thought it looked rather foreboding," Fenris noted dryly. He scanned over the paltry set of guards posted in front of the entrance. "We might have to exert ourselves to get past that lot."

Hawke gave him a pointed look. "Maker forbid that we break a sweat," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"Exactly."

"Sometimes, Fenris, I think Zev was a bad influence on you. I don't think you were always this snarky," the mageling said.

Fenris' frame stiffened at that accusation. He wrinkled his nose in disgust, not at all pleased with the idea of the assassin having any influence over him. "I beg to differ," he said slowly.

That earned him a shake of Hawke's head punctuated by a weary smile on her face. "Fenris, you never beg. That's a good thing," she told him. He found that he couldn't take umbrage at that remark. "And perhaps you're right. Maybe you were always the sarcastic sort…I just didn't know it because you didn't talk much at first."

"You talked enough for both of us."

"I guess I did but that's only because I was trying to hold up both ends of the conversation. Whatever the cause, I'm happy you're willing to talk more now. Your voice is too lovely to waste."

Fenris coughed and ducked his head, unused to such compliments. "Shall we get going?" he asked, looking to change the subject. "Or do you still want to complain about having to venture into another cave?"

"Somehow I get the feeling that you're mocking me. And yes, I'm not happy about having to deal with another cave. I don't know why people think they're such great hiding places. They're dank, they're dreary, and all too often they're inhabited by spiders of unusual size." She shuddered at that thought.

"Yes, yes. Spiders of unusual size should leave caves behind and instead live in fields where farmers can pay us to slaughter them. That would make more sense."

"Well an open field is more pleasant than a dark and stinky cave, but that's neither here nor there. My point was that it would make for a nice change of pace for us to go up against someone with enough sense not make a cave their hideout."

"Oh? What would you recommend?" Fenris asked.

"If I was looking for a hideout, I would want some place nicer with natural light for starters. Preferably high up so I can see any potential attackers with defensible walls to hide behind," Hawke answered promptly.

Fenris blinked. Clearly the mageling was thinking of a castle or a fort. While a castle was more defensible than a cave, Fenris was quite happy that he didn't have to go up against one. "You do realize that would only make our job harder, right?"

Hawke shrugged her shoulders. "I know, I know. I don't really want to face a group of bandits smart enough to make fortifications. That being said, it would be nice if there was more light about if only to help us see traps."

"I think not being able to see them is part of which makes a trap effective."

"A trap is only effective if it stops me from getting to you. If I trip it but am able to get out of it, let's just say that I'm not going to be very forgiving when I reach you."

That reasoning was typical of Hawke—convoluted but right in its own way. Fenris knew that if he let the mageling, she could go on all day about the drawbacks of caves. "Shall we get started?" he asked, drawing his sword from its spot upon his back. "The sooner we start clearing the vermin from this cave, the sooner we can leave this place far behind," he said. Then he looked at her sideways. A thought had occurred to him, one that he was pretty sure she wouldn't like. "Of course we could always skip this task and be on our way. If the templar is as devoted to his duty of guarding the chantry as he claims, I doubt he'll come chasing after us."

Fenris was right. Hawke didn't like that suggestion, and she gave him a dirty look. "You know me better than that. I'm not about to leave a fellow Fereldan in that lot's hands."

"I didn't think so, but you were complaining so much about having to enter another cave that I started to wonder."

Hawke snorted and crossed her arms. "I wasn't complaining about the fact that we have to clear out another cave, but rather that bandits and slavers seem to have no imagination when choosing their hideouts. Though perhaps that's just as well as that does narrow down the places where they'll hide. But anyway shall I launch a fireball to start?" Hawke cupped her hands together, gathering her magic to her.

"No!" Fenris said sharply before she could cast the spell, shaking his head vigorously. Hawke dropped her hands to her side at his cry. She stepped backwards away from the mouth of the cave, her forehead creased, clearly puzzled by his reaction.

"While your fireballs are notoriously effective, they also tend to be on the loud side," Fenris explained in response to the unspoken question in her eyes. "That normally wouldn't be a problem but these bandits have a captive that they can easily use as a hostage. We'll need to make our attack as quietly as possible if we want to prevent that from happening."

"I see," Hawke said as her confusion left her face. "That rules out all of my fire spells. Pity that as those are my most effective spells. Any suggestions?"

He scratched absently at his chin as he considered Hawke's question. "Most of your spells are rather flashy. Not that that's necessarily bad," he added hastily at the mageling's disgruntled humph. "Flashy normally works to put fear in the hearts of our enemies, but that's not what we're aiming for here. I don't suppose you could freeze all of the guards in a single shot?"

"If I could get closer, then without a doubt. Ice spells don't travel as easily as fire spells. I don't want to get too technical, but motion tends to heat spells up," was Hawke's reply.

"How about that large ice spell you did when we attacked Brax and his slavers?" Fenris asked.

She rolled her eyes. "I thought you didn't want a flashy spell," she noted. "A sudden blizzard in the middle of spring will most definitely attract attention."

"Not if it freezes them before they can raise the alarm," Fenris pointed out.

"Well it will slow them down definitely. But will it freeze them? That I can't guarantee."

"I see." Fenris shrugged his shoulders. The plan he had in mind wasn't much of one, but it was the best he could come up with on such short notice. An archer would be perfect for this situation, but unfortunately he had no skill with a bow and so would have to make do. "Go ahead and cast that spell when you're ready. I'll take care of any still capable of alerting their fellows."

"But that means you'll have to pass through the area of my blizzard. You'll be affected by the ice too, Fenris," Hawke protested. "I couldn't bear it if—"

"It will be fine," he assured her. "If I activate these," he nodded towards the lyrium brands on his body, "that will provide me with some measure of protection against the cold."

The mageling didn't look happy with him, but she simply wrinkled her nose before nodding her head. A second later, she was gathering the fade to her once more, summoning the magical energies needed to unleash an ice spell in such warm weather. Hawke was ready to cast sooner than Fenris expected, surprising the elf once again with her prowess with primal magic. The mageling glanced once at him to make sure he was ready and then spread her hands apart, sending the fury of winter tumbling towards the guards.

The blizzard spell took the bandits by surprise, freezing several of them in place. A couple of them were left moving, however, and they fell back towards the cave. Fenris was off like a flash, hot on the heels of the spell. He dove into the freezing storm of ice and headed straight towards those two men. He caught one of them just in time, slicing the man in half before he could enter the cave. Fenris then spun on his heel, but before he could attack, he found that he was being pressed by not one but three bandits.

He quickly switched from the attack into a defensive mode, his training making such a change automatic. The bandits were poorly trained and ill-equipped to press him. It was simple enough to parry their clumsy attacks until he saw an opening in their common defense. Quick as a snake, he struck, disarming one before knocking out the other two.

But then there was another man charging straight at him. Fenris planted his feet and lifted his sword up, preparing to meet the man head on. However right before the man reached Fenris, he was struck in the back by another burst of ice courtesy of Hawke. Fenris quirked up an eyebrow and then stepped forward to smash the man to bits with his sword. His eyes scanned the battlefield, searching both for potential enemies as well as his mageling to make sure that she was safe.

His ire was provoked when he saw Hawke had entered the fray rather than staying back like any sensible mage would. Though she wore light armor, Fenris hardly thought that it provided her with enough protection against any bladed weapon. The remaining guards were not complete fools and so were concentrating their attack on Hawke rather than Fenris. With a low growl, Fenris stalked forward. If any of them so much laid a hand on her, he swore to himself, he would personally make sure that they would regret it.

He found out in short order that he had no reason to fear. Hawke was capable of defending herself. She whacked the closest guard on the head with her staff and then shoved him into the path of his fellows, slowing all of them down. Then Hawke waved her staff in an arc around her, sending out spikes of ice that encased all of her attackers.

The mageling offered up a saucy grin at Fenris as he reached her. He bit his tongue, holding back the retorts that wanted to spill forth, so that the two of them could take care of the bandits Hawke had just frozen. "I thought it looked like you could use some help," she told him when they finished.

"I wasn't ever in any trouble," he said firmly. "While you on the other hand—"

"Had everything under control. Don't give me that look, Fenris. While I am by no means your equal, I do have a couple tricks up my sleeves. A staff may not be the most effective weapon but it can be useful in a pinch."

"Of that I have no doubt. However there was no need for you to put yourself in danger."

"And let you take the brunt of the attack? I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you." Hawke shuddered at that thought. "But enough of this. We have a boy to rescue, do we not?"

"This conversation isn't over yet, Hawke," Fenris promised her.

"No, it's not. Which is good because I plan to extract a pledge from you to be more careful in battle," she replied with a sniff. She slung her staff on to her back and walked towards the cave. Fenris watched her for a moment, a steady stream of curses running through his mind. Hawke was nothing if not stubborn, and it looked as though she had somehow got the notion she should protect him stuck in her pretty little head. He would have to rid her of such a foolish notion, and the sooner the better.

Fenris set off after Hawke, catching up with her in a matter of steps and taking the lead. He signaled for her to stop in front of the cave as he carefully checked the area for traps. Finding none, they proceeded forward but at a snail's pace. That was another thing Zevran was good for, Fenris reflected. The elven assassin's sharp eyes had spotted many a trap back when they worked together, and Fenris found that he missed Zevran's capabilities now.

He missed Zevran even more the first time he tried to disarm a trap. It did not end well, and he wound up with a leg stuck between the trap's clawed teeth. Hawke squeaked in fright, her eyes wide and large as she sought to free him from it. Once he was sprung loose, Hawke insisted on looking him over and healing him before they moved on. Fenris was grateful for Hawke's skill in the healing arts, although she always insisted she wasn't that good, but he mentally berated himself for the slip. Not only should he have been able to trigger the trap without getting caught in it, given how obvious it was, but it also meant that when he had that promised conversation with Hawke later, she would throw this mistake back in his face.

After that mishap with the bear claw trap, Fenris took to pointing out traps to Hawke so they both could avoid them rather than trying to disarm them. Fortunately the few times that they ran into bandits, there were no traps about and so they were able to move freely when attacking. None of the bandits were very skilled. For the most part, they seemed to depend on their numbers for effectiveness but those numbers were no match for the combination of Fenris' sword and Hawke's magic.

"Is it my imagination, or is taking out these bandits easy?" asked Hawke after they won another skirmish. "I swear that it was tougher back in Antiva, and that was when we had Zev with us as well."

"It is easier. That's the difference between a ruthless, trained band of slavers and a ragtag gang of bandits," Fenris replied. "Still do not let your guard down. They are most likely hoping for a large windfall by obtaining a significant ransom from the Fereldan lord for his son. Given the skill we've seen from this gang, it has been quite some time since they've seen that much coin."

"Don't worry. I'll be careful," Hawke said. "But then I'm always careful. Which is more than can be said for you."

"This is not the time for you to start on that again."

"Oh, I'm not. This is just a friendly reminder to let you know that I've not forgotten about earlier."

Which time was what Fenris wanted to ask, but he knew better than to do so because that would only encourage his mageling more. He would have to distract her later tonight, but he was confident that he was up to the task. Hopefully they would be able to return the brat to the templar before nightfall so that they would have to watch over the child for the night.

Fenris was roused from his pleasant reverie by a sharp hiss slicing through the air. Grabbing on to Hawke's hand, he jerked them sharply to one side. A moment later, an arrow flew by right through the heart of the space they had occupied before, its tip gleaming with a liquid that was undoubtedly poison.

"Was that another trap?" asked Hawke, her eyes wide as she scanned their surroundings.

"No." Fenris focused his gaze on the shadows from where the arrow had come. His eyes narrowed as he spotted a patch of black and gray that didn't quite fit with darkness around it. He carefully maneuvered himself forward so to ensure that he was between Hawke and the archer. Even Hawke as stubborn as she was would have to admit that his battle instincts were better than hers, and so he could dodge any arrows more easily and ably than her.

A flicker of recognition passed through the archer's eyes, indicating that the man realized that he had been spotted. The man melted out of the shadows, his bow drawn and ready. He was tall with dark hair, sallow skin, and a nose that could only be called unfortunate. "I wouldn't recommend taking another step," the man said harshly. "Not unless you want to find out if you're faster than my arrows."

Fenris narrowed his eyes at the man before him. Something didn't quite fit here. He was too skilled to be a member of the same bunch of bandits infesting the cave. "You're not a bandit," he said flatly.

The man lifted an eyebrow up. "No, I'm not."

"Another person who saw this item on the chanter's board then?" Hawke asked, peeping out from behind Fenris. She rolled her eyes. "Too bad you didn't tell that nosy templar first. Maybe he would have left us alone. Anyway if that's the case, then we might as well—"

"I have no clue what you're talking about," the archer interrupted Hawke's rambling sharply.

Fenris exchanged a glance with his mageling. "If that's the case, then why are you here?" he asked.

The man's lips quirked up into a grin. "Would you believe me if I said I was out for my morning stroll when I got caught up by this gang?"

Fenris found that hard to believe in fact, but before he could reply as such, shouting erupted from the cavern just behind the archer. The rogue spun on one foot, and not a moment too soon, for pouring through the nearest archway into the small cavern was the largest group of bandits yet, all heavily armed.

The man leading the charge stopped in his tracks, his eyes wild with desperation. "The prisoner's escaped!" he yelled, gesturing with his knives towards them. "Get him!"

"What about the other two?" asked one of his lackeys.

"Show no mercy," was the response. Then the bandits charged. Once again it wasn't the same as fighting Brax's slavers, who had some notion of how best to work together. The bandits' cooperation amongst themselves was haphazard at best, and none of them had the foresight to try and break through to take out Hawke, who with her magic was the most dangerous foe they faced.

"So you're the captive?" Hawke asked the archer, in between slinging spheres of ice at any bandit who tried to sneak up on Fenris.

"Was," the archer noted stiffly. "As you see, I am captive no more."

"So I suppose that means we don't have to worry about hostages any more?" was Hawke's next question, this time directed at Fenris.

"Not unless they captured anyone else," Fenris grunted. He easily disarmed one bandit, who was then sent running after a fierce growl from the elf, and then moved on to his next opponent. He couldn't help but feel a little put out at the moment. Hawke was always the talkative sort, but he felt that battle was not the time and place for a conversation. Such laxness was most unlike her, and it would not serve her well.

"Well are there any? Other captives we have to worry about that is?" Hawke was focused once more on questioning the lone archer.

"No," was his short reply. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm rather busy at the moment. People to kill, you know, preferably before they kill me," he added, firing off a rapid succession of shots.

"Oh I'm ahead of you on that one."

Fenris felt a surge of light and heat from behind him. From the corner of his eye, he saw that Hawke was summoning what looked to be one massive fireball into life. "_Venhedis,_" he swore as he realized Hawke's intentions. "Fall back!" he commanded the archer. The man obeyed without thinking and fell back just as Hawke released the fireball with a flick of her wrist.

The fireball roared past Fenris, nearly blinding him with its fury and light as it impacted in the center of the remaining bandits. Fenris instinctively dropped down as did the archer just moments before the ground shook violently and the acrid tang of smoke filled the air. The spell was so massive that it didn't stay put in the small cavern but rather traveled out through the archway and into the labyrinth of tunnels behind it.

"What the hell was that?" the archer demanded, jumping to his feet and strode towards Hawke. Fenris got to his feet as well. Though he was annoyed that Hawke had been so reckless, he wasn't about to let the other man lay hands on his mageling.

"That?" Hawke asked saucily, tipping her chin up into the air and sniffing haughtily. "That's what I like to call winning."

The man shot her a gaze full of disgust. "Is that so? Well where I come from, we like to call that unnecessary destruction. So much for me finding any evidence of the bastard behind all this," he ended in a mutter.

"Your gratitude stuns me," Hawke said dryly. "Not a minute before I cast that spell, you were fighting for your life."

A mild headache was settling inside Fenris' head. He decided to intercede before the others' bickering got out of hand. "To be fair, Hawke, a fireball of that magnitude was more than what was needed. Couldn't you have used a smaller spell?"

"Couldn't," Hawke promptly asserted. The mageling held up a hand before he could question that assertion. "I know you want an explanation, Fenris. My only question is do you want the short version or the long version?" she asked.

"An understandable one will suffice."

"Fire is more than just my best element, it's my base element. When I summon elemental energy, that's the form it takes. When I concentrate on non-fire elemental spells, I build up a charge so to speak of fire energy which needs to get released somehow," she explained. "I thought it was better to use that extra reserve in battle rather than lighting the camp fire tonight."

Fenris paled. The idea of Hawke using all that energy to light a fire later tonight was unnerving to say the least. The archer spoke for both of them when he said, "Thank the Maker you didn't do that. Singed eyebrows would be the least of your concerns."

"Indeed, I would be worried about the hillside," Fenris agreed.

"Hillsides," Hawke corrected him. "As it would have been worse this evening."

"Well I suppose you had reason enough to act as you did, mage," said the archer. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to see if there's any evidence that's salvageable." With that, he stalked off into the mess of tunnels that Hawke had set aflame.

"Should we go after him?" Hawke asked Fenris. "I mean, we did kind of promise that we would ensure the captive was returned home safely. Even though at the time I thought the captive was some poor Fereldan lad, not a dour sourpuss like my brother."

"I think he can take care of himself," said Fenris. "Unless of course you'd prefer to stay and enjoy the scenery."

Hawke rolled her eyes. "Perish the thought. Let's get out of here. I'm sick of caves."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> My thanks to all my readers and especially to everyone who reviewed. :D I hope you all enjoyed the first update of the year.


	37. Chapter 34

**Promises: Chapter Thirty-Four  
><strong>

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

* * *

><p>Fenris and Hawke wound up waiting just outside the cave for the man they had rescued—or rather tried to rescue. Neither of them felt right just leaving without making sure that the man made it out of the cave safely, and so they lingered outside. Hawke insisted on checking Fenris for injuries, clucking like a mother hen at him when he told her that he was unharmed, and healed him of everything, including the slightest of scratches. By the time she was finished, they were rejoined by the dour archer.<p>

"Any luck?" Hawke asked brightly as if she was not responsible for virtually burning the bandits' hideout to a crisp.

The man crossed his arms. "No."

Hawke winced. "I see. Well sorry about that. If it makes you feel any better, that blast was actually larger than I thought it would be." She frowned. "Probably because it was an enclosed space. I must remember that next time."

"Next time?" the man asked sharply.

"Yes, it's rather inevitable that we'll be fighting in a cave again. I was complaining to Fenris earlier today how slavers, bandits, and the like have no imagination when it comes to choosing their hideouts. They're always caves."

"They are, aren't they?" A slow grin formed on the man's face. "They never have their headquarters in someplace unexpected like a bakery or a meadow. Although I can understand why not a meadow…not much defensible space in meadows."

"Well it's not as though all the defensible space in that cave did those bandits any good," Hawke pointed out.

"You have a point," the man admitted. "They weren't very good, were they?"

"No, they were not," Fenris agreed.

"Yes. One would have to be extraordinarily inept to be captured by that bunch," Hawke said, her eyes glancing over at the archer as she threw that barb his way.

The archer was no fool. He knew an insult when he heard one. "I was taken unawares," he replied stiffly.

"Of course." Hawke had a large grin on her face, one that Fenris knew was calculated to be infuriating.

"And betrayed," the man added. "By a fellow squire no less." Then he glared down the long length of his nose at Hawke. "And if this is an attempt by you to get some coin, then stop. I had no need of assistance from the two of you nor did I ask for your help. If you were promised coin, I would go back and demand it from whoever posted on the chanter's board you mentioned."

"Thank you but no," Hawke muttered softly. Fenris agreed with that sentiment. It was not worth the trouble to go back to town, and besides he didn't want to take the risk that the templar would not believe them that the noble's son was more than capable of taking care of himself and therefore decide to imprison Hawke after all.

"Anyway," Hawke chirped brightly. "I think introductions are in order. I'm Hawke, and the tall scary elf with the sword is Fenris."

"Howe," was the archer's reply. "Nathaniel Howe."

Hawke blinked in surprise. "Howe as in the Howes from Amaranthine?" she asked.

"Yes," Nathaniel replied. "From Amaranthine."

Hawke turned to Fenris without prompting as though she sensed the questions the elf had. "The Howes are a noble family from Ferelden," she explained. "They've held Amaranthine for ages and are also known for being close to the lords of Highever."

"Someone knows her high ranking families of Ferelden," the archer noted. "Read up on them much perhaps?"

Hawke rolled her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. My family lived in Highever once though briefly."

Now it was Nathaniel's turn to blink in surprise. "You're from Ferelden?" he asked, taking a step back.

Hawke glared at the man. "Yes. I am," she replied shortly. "Where did you think I was from? Orlais?"

The man shook his head. "I thought you were a Marcher given that we're in the Free Marches. Don't see too many Fereldans this far north," he said. "But I suppose I should have known better. Only Fereldan women are so fierce." He inclined his head towards Fenris. "That's a warning by the way. That's the reason one of my best friends chose to marry an Antivan. Said that Fereldan women are too scary."

Fenris repressed the urge to sigh. The archer was clearly baiting Hawke, and his mageling was on the verge of losing her temper. He recognized that telltale twitch of her fingers that meant she was about to do something foolish. He quickly latched out an arm and pulled Hawke to his side. "Thank you, but that's entirely unnecessary," he told the man. "I might add that your friend sounds like the sort who scares easily."

Nathaniel let out a short bark of laughter. "Funny that's what—" He paused, a dark look flickering over his face. "Never mind," he said with a shake of his head. "In any event, we had best get away from here before any reinforcements show up. I would rather not have the little pyromaniac here set the entire hillside on fire."

"That wouldn't happen now," Hawke grumbled. Thankfully the archer kept his mouth shut, instead of trying to provoke the mageling further. The three of them stuck together as they trekked away from the cave, though this was more of Fenris' doing than anyone else's. Several times he tried to send meaningful glances towards Hawke, to prod the mageling into asking if the Howe had heard of her family. Hawke remained uncharacteristically silent, however, and hardly spoke at all. She seemed to be upset at being teased by the other man, which puzzled Fenris because Hawke could give as good as she got.

Hawke perked up after they stopped for the night, eager as always to help Fenris with the cooking. Fenris made sure that they prepared enough food for three, feeling that it was best to be polite to the archer in case Hawke came to her senses and started questioning him for news. Nathaniel offered to keep a look out after seeing that dinner was well in hand. Fenris noticed that the archer kept an eye not only on their surroundings but on how he and Hawke were preparing the food as well. Such vigilance was something Fenris approved of; they had just met after all and so it would be foolish for the man to trust them absolutely.

Thankfully Nathaniel stayed some distance away. This gave Fenris the chance to see why Hawke was being so reticent about asking after her village and her family. "I must confess that I'm somewhat puzzled by your behavior," he murmured to her.

"Oh?" Hawke cocked her head to one side, confusion writ large in her eyes.

"Yes. I would have thought you would have been all over our new friend here, plying him with question after question about your home."

"Oh." Hawke bit her lip. "I doubt he knows anything," she mumbled. "Amaranthine isn't close to Lothering at all, and it's not as though his family and mine run in the same circles. Rather the opposite, in fact."

Those sounded like excuses to Fenris' ears. Hawke hadn't been shy about asking any other Fereldan about her hometown, no matter where in that country they might have come from. For her to be so restrained now was out of character for his mageling. Still he saw no reason to press the issue for the moment; when Hawke was feeling stubborn, it was nigh impossible to get her to change her mind.

Hawke's curious behavior continued after they had finished making dinner. She offered Nathaniel a bowl readily enough but then retreated away from him. She sat down next to Fenris, practically pressed up against his side, and ate her food quietly rather than talk. Fenris could feel the other man's eyes on them.

"So that's it," the man said, his voice smug.

Both Fenris and Hawke's gazes snapped over to the archer. "What?" Hawke asked shortly.

"I was wondering why you were so far afield from Ferelden," Nathaniel explained. "It's one thing for a family to send a son away to be squired, but daughters are a different matter. You ran away from home, didn't you, so you could be with your elven lover."

Hawke's face turned bright red. "I…I…" she stammered, seemingly at a loss for words. "I did _not_ run away from home!" she said fiercely.

The archer merely cocked an eyebrow up at her and then gestured to the way Hawke was curled up against Fenris' side.

Hawke's blush deepened, but she did not move from her spot. Rather she snuggled closer to Fenris even as she shot daggers at the other man with her eyes. "I was stolen away from my home by slavers," she told the archer in icy tones. "If you must know, it was Fenris who saved me. We've been together since then."

"I see." Nathaniel gave her a knowing smirk.

"Not like that!" Hawke's voice was strident. "I'm not…that is to say, neither of us are the sort…argh! You're insufferable and you know it!" She wagged a finger at the archer accusingly.

"My sister would say that I'm proud to be as insufferable as I am," the man told her modestly.

"You have a sister?" Hawke pulled a face. "My condolences to her. I thought I had it bad with Carver, but I have to admit you're loads worse."

"Well as Fergus used to say, a brother's role in life is to make sure that his sister isn't always happy. If she is, then he's doing something wrong. Obviously your Carver is of the same mind," said Nathaniel. He turned his gaze over to Fenris. "There's another duty that brothers have, but I am sure you'll find out soon enough once the two of you return to Ferelden. That is where you're headed, isn't it? Since you didn't run away."

Hawke nodded her head. "That is the plan at least," she said softly.

"I see. Did you know that you're headed in the wrong direction?" the man asked. "The closest sea port is Wycombe but you're headed towards Ansburg and Starkhaven," he pointed out.

"Oh really? I knew we should have taken the left fork at that last set of crossroads," Hawke replied sarcastically.

Fenris rolled his eyes. He wondered why Hawke all of a sudden was too proud to ask for help. Perhaps it was because of the way the archer kept teasing her. Whatever the reason, it was unproductive and he decided it was high time for him to help her out. "Hawke doesn't believe her family would stay in the same place after slavers attacked both her and her little sister," he explained. "So we're headed towards Kirkwall as she has an uncle there who might know where they are."

"Kirkwall?" Nathaniel repeated. "I wouldn't go to Kirkwall if I were you. You must not have been in the Free Marches for long otherwise you would know it's not the best place for mages."

"My mother is from Kirkwall and my father was a member of Kirkwall's circle if briefly so I'm well aware of how unwelcoming that city is towards my kind," said Hawke. "If we go there, I intend to stay there just long enough to look up my Uncle Gamlen and shake him down for information."

Nathaniel Howe was no fool, and he easily parsed through their words to what had been left unsaid. "You're hoping to come across a hint as to your family's whereabouts before then, aren't you? Well you must not be doing a very good job. You know I'm from Ferelden and you haven't once asked me if I've heard of them."

Fenris could feel Hawke bristling from her spot by his side. "Why would I ask you? You've obviously been in the Free Marches for awhile, not Ferelden."

"Ah yes, and of course I would have no news of home." Nathaniel shook his head from side to side.

"Oh please. I doubt you've even heard of Lothering," Hawke snapped back.

"Lothering? That small town in the south?" Nathaniel smirked over at Hawke. "As you can see, I have indeed heard of it."

"Have you heard anything recent?" Fenris asked before Hawke could try to antagonize the other man again.

"No, I'm afraid not," was the man's reply. "If I had, I would tell you, but it's not exactly a place that gets that many visitors."

Hawke mumbled something that suspiciously sounded like 'I told you so' but Fenris ignored her. The elf knew that she was irked by her fellow Fereldan, but personally Fenris felt that Nathaniel Howe was somewhat trustworthy—at least more trustworthy than either the elven assassin or lusty pirate captain they had traveled with. As such, he saw no reason not to continue conversing with the man. Fenris would never admit it, but dinner was almost too quiet for his liking with his mageling remaining as silent as she was.

"So what are your plans once you return to Ansburg? I imagine the squire who had betrayed you will be most surprised to see you walk in," the elf said.

A cloud darkened Nathaniel's face. "He will indeed. I imagine him and all of his conspirators will be given quite a shock when I return."

"Is that how you intend on identifying them?" Fenris asked curiously. It was a decent strategy, he supposed, so long as one's opponents were not used to hiding their emotions.

"I already know the ringleader. It's that bastard Ian Carrow. He was miffed that I beat him so handily in an archery contest and made no bones of the fact that he had it out for me. If I can readily discover some of his accomplices just by showing up…well then that will make my job easier."

"Let me guess. You're planning revenge," Hawke put in. "That's what Carver would do."

"Something tells me that you would do the same yourself," Nathaniel noted. "But yes, I am planning revenge. It's what any good Fereldan would do."

"Somehow I think the man who betrayed you won't be living for much longer," Fenris noted. The shots Nathaniel had made during the short time they had fought together were impressive. Fenris doubted that the other squire would ever see his doom coming.

"I don't intend to kill him. That's too good for the likes of him," Nathaniel stated flatly. "Killing him would be too easy and painless for a backstabber like him, especially since I'm not the type of prolong a death by torture."

"All right. So if you're not planning to kill him, then what are you going to do for your revenge? Spread nasty rumors about how much he hates cheese?" Hawke asked.

"Close," said Nathaniel, "but not quite. I plan to ruin him. By the time I'm done with him, there will not be a single noble family in all of the Free Marches who will willingly associate with that snake."

Fenris exchanged a glance with Hawke. He definitely wouldn't want to get on the bad side of the archer because Nathaniel was nothing short of ruthless when it came to revenge. However the elf privately thought that the man had set himself quite a task in completely ruining the other squire.

Hawke shared his feelings there as evidenced by her next words. "Well good luck with that," she said. "You're going to need it."

The man looked at her and then at Fenris, a crafty light in his eyes. "While I won't say no to any luck that comes my way, I believe that it's best not to rely on it. The problem with luck is that it's too unpredictable," he said. "It does occur to me, however, that given the number of conspirators that Ian must have on his side, it would do me some good to even the odds so to speak."

Fenris and Hawke glanced at each other once again. "Are you asking for our help?" he asked.

"You were looking for a job earlier, weren't you? That's why you had stopped to look at the chanter's board," the man noted.

"A job entails getting paid. You've yet to mention any remuneration we could expect from helping you." Hawke cocked her head to one side. "Again," she added, wrinkling her nose in annoyance.

Nathaniel inclined his head towards Hawke. "Of course it would be the lady who brings up payment," he murmured. "I've found that women are ever practical in that regards."

Hawke tapped her foot impatiently. "Please. Fenris isn't the sort to work for free either. He wasn't even interested in taking this particular quest off of the chanter's board." She sighed heavily. "I really should have listened to him," she muttered softly in an aside.

Fenris was gratified to hear such an admission from her. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer to him, squeezing her shoulder once to let her know that he accepted her unspoken apology. She leaned her head against him, tangling her hand with his, as she took comfort in having him so close.

Their silent communication did not go unnoticed by Nathaniel but he wisely chose not to remark upon it. Instead he answered Hawke's original question. "As for payment, I feel that the sum of fifty sovereigns should be adequate," he said. "Each of course," he added before either of them could speak.

Fenris was all for accepting the job after the mention of such a sum. They hadn't had a decent job for weeks, but this would more than make up for it. However Hawke had other ideas. "So you're saying that you're willing to pay us a total of one hundred sovereigns?" she asked. "Forgive me, but I doubt you have that much coin. While I have no doubt that your family has arranged for a small stipend for you, I have trouble believing that they would send you that much every month."

"They don't," Nathaniel agreed readily enough. "My father isn't exactly known for being generous with his purse as you have no doubt have heard even in a small village such as Lothering. I have been saving the bulk of my monthly allowance for quite some time, and so I've more than enough coin to cover that amount." A shadow flickered over his face, leaving a dark scowl in its wake. "I had been saving it for a certain…contingency, you might say. I've recently learned that I was a fool for planning for such a thing. Thus I've sovereigns to spare when it comes to paying you."

"But I'll sweeten my offer even more," the man went on. "You're looking for your family, right? I imagine that I have more resources than you when it comes to getting a letter to Ferelden. If you help me, I promise to do everything in my power to get a single letter from the lady to her family in addition to the coin I've already offered." He smiled briefly at Hawke. "And I'll have it sent as soon as we arrive at Ansburg if you have it ready then."

That offer was one that was too good to refuse. Though it might take some time for them to arrange for as complete a revenge as Nathaniel wanted over his fellow squire, Fenris thought they would be well compensated for their time both by the sovereigns the archer promised and the letter he promised to get to Hawke's family. He knew by Hawke's soft sigh that she felt the same way, and so he wasted no time in letting the archer know that they would help him in his quest for revenge.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> My thanks to everyone still with me on this fic. I hope you like this latest update.


	38. Chapter 35

**Promises: Chapter Thirty-Five  
><strong>

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

* * *

><p>Ansburg was two day's away from the bandits' hideout. The trio used the time they spent traveling to the city to plan what actions they would take and hash out the roles they would play once they arrived.<p>

"So dare I hope you have some notion of how to ruin this Ian of yours?" Hawke asked early the next day, shortly after they had set off from camp. She walked next to Fenris, barely a hand's width apart from the elf. Fenris rather liked having her by his side that way; it would be easier to protect her from any and all harm if she was always within reach.

"First off, he's not my anything." Nathaniel shuddered visibly. "So I'll appreciate it if you choose your words with more care in the future."

"Oh I assure you, I selected my phrasing with the utmost of care," Hawke replied sweetly.

Nathaniel glanced at her askance. "Of course. Why am I not surprised?" he muttered. "As to your question, I do indeed have a plan on how to ruin him. It's clear that Carrow has connections to criminal elements in Ansburg, and strong ones at that seeing how he was able to convince them to kidnap me. I plan to expose him for scum that he is and let the endless gossip that pervades high society take care of the rest."

"Sounds good to me. I don't suppose you've identified these contacts of his," said Hawke.

"If I did, I wouldn't need your help," Nathaniel replied a bit testily. "I've known for awhile that the blighted bastard has ties to Ansburg's thieves' guild. If I had proof, I would have already used it against him."

"But surely you must have some idea of where to start," Hawke pressed him.

"I do. That's why I need you…or rather your companion."

"Oh?" Hawke glanced sideways at Fenris but like the mageling, he had no idea about the thought process behind the archer's statement.

"The head of the thieves' guild of Ansburg is an elf," Nathaniel explained. "As such, he recruits heavily from the alienage. It's hard for elves to find work in the city, and so I guess poverty leads them into a life of crime," Nathaniel explained matter-of-factly. "However elves won't talk to me. That's where your friend comes in. The residents of the alienage will be much more likely to confide in him."

"Isn't that taking a leap of faith? I mean, Fenris will be a stranger to them. I doubt that a successful thief is prone to divulging his secrets to whoever walks in off the street."

Nathaniel fixed Hawke with a stare, but that didn't faze her. "That is why," Nathaniel said in crisp tones, "I expect that it will take some measure of time before your companion will get any useful information. However I have no doubt that eventually he will be able to learn more about the thieves' guild. Like I said, they do look for recruits from the alienage and an elf who's handy with a sword should be a target for them."

Fenris winced at Nathaniel's poor choice of words as his mageling emitted a soft growl. Fenris could see Hawke scrunching up her face. He could tell she was about to put her foot in it. He squeezed her hand, drawing her attention to him. With a brief smile and an exaggerated roll of his eyes, he let her know just to let the matter drop. His mageling didn't look too happy about that, but she did as he bid.

Hawke sighed heavily. "So let me get this straight. Your plan is to have Fenris to charm any elves in the thieves' guild into giving up valuable information," said Hawke slowly.

"Yes, I'm certain that some of them must know something."

"And then you use that information to find solid evidence to present to the…who rules Ansburg again?"

"The margrave," Nathaniel answered promptly. "And that's the other issue, I have actually." He rubbed the back of his head nervously.

Hawke and Fenris exchanged a glance. "Other issue?" Fenris repeated. When Nathaniel had spoke about his situation the night before, it sounded as though all they needed to do was to find evidence of Ian's connection with the thieves' guild and then that would be that.

"There's always something else, isn't there?" Hawke grumbled under her breath from her spot beside Fenris. "It was the same way with Zev."

"True. At least this one is more honest," Fenris pointed out to her.

"If a lot less charming," was Hawke's response.

"That's a good thing," Fenris replied quickly. The idea of Hawke lavishing her attention on another man was not a pleasant one. Though he didn't understand the source of his mageling's irritation with Nathaniel, he was happy that she was unlikely to be as friendly with the archer as she had been with the assassin.

Meanwhile Nathaniel had remained silent as the two of them exchanged their remarks, but he now cleared his throat, calling their attention to him. "Oh the joys of traveling with a couple," he remarked sardonically. "I do so love not understanding all these coded conversations."

Hawke rolled her eyes in annoyance. "If you don't want us to help you—"

"Unfortunately my wants have never been high on anyone's priority list," Nathaniel snapped, scowling fiercely. "I would rather be able to handle this on my own. However that's what I've tried to do in the past, and you can see how far that got me. So while I do not _want _help, I will be pragmatic and seek it out."

Fenris cocked an eyebrow up. He could understand the other man's longing to be entirely self-reliant. He himself had not trusted anyone to guard his back until Hawke came along. However there seemed more to the man's displeasure than just that. Indeed Nathaniel seemed almost bitter at times, and Fenris wondered what could have upset the archer so.

"In any case, you were about to tell us about another issue you have to deal with," said Hawke, prodding the archer for more details. "Let me guess. This Ian has allies outside of the thieves' guild that we must also deal with."

"Close, very close," said Nathaniel. "It's…something like that. Carrow has had a reputation for being both a bully and a coward. Complaints have been made about him before, and there are many in Ansburg who would love to see the bastard shipped away for good. However the margrave is amongst Carrow's staunchest supporters and protects him against all charges."

Fenris resisted the urge to curse. It was one thing to help ferret out evidence about Howe's enemy in order for the archer to have his revenge. It was another thing to dispose of the ruler of a city. "If you're expecting us to overthrow the margrave and for such little coin, then perhaps it would be best for us to go our separate ways," he said stiffly.

"I don't think that's it, Fenris," Hawke told him softly. Her gaze flickered over to Nathaniel. "So is the margrave of Ansburg known for being bully himself? Or perhaps he has a reputation for being a fool instead?"

"Neither," the archer replied with a shake of his head. "In fact, he's one of the best rulers that the city has ever seen."

Fenris wrinkled his forehead, deep in thought. "If that is true, then it is strange he would be so taken with a man you've described as a bully and a coward," he said.

"Indeed, it is strange. However I have heard that there is foul magic that can cloud a man's mind and senses." Nathaniel looked pointedly at Hawke.

Her eyebrows both shot up. "You suspect blood magic?" she cried. "Then that's not a job for us but rather the templars."

"Ansburg has its templars, but none of them are in my confidence. Besides a mage should be more than capable of recognizing blood magic when she sees it, right?"

Hawke shuddered. "Yes," she replied. "But just because I can sense it doesn't mean I want to be around it. Blood magic is…it's unnatural and foul and being near it gives me the creeps."

"That it is," Fenris agreed. "However if there is a blood mage manipulating the ruler of Ansburg, then someone needs to put an end to that. We are better equipped than most to deal with such foul magics."

"I suppose so," Hawke said reluctantly. "Besides I guess it might not be blood magic. Blackmail is just as possible," she said, her expression brightening.

"That is true, especially as Carrow has ties to those who are in the business of stealing secrets," Nathaniel said. "If it is blackmail, however, then we'll need to figure out just what the blackmail is. It might be easier to deal with blood magic than unravel blackmail."

Fenris grimaced. The archer had a point, but the elf preferred to deal with blackmail himself. Evidently the archer had never dealt with blood magic before and so had no grasp of its perversions. However Fenris took some comfort in the fact that he had Hawke at his side. His mageling was one of the strongest mages he had ever come across, in both moral fiber and magical capacity, and so hopefully she would be able to shield them from any spells a blood mage might lob their way.

"So is there anything else?" Hawke asked. "Or is that the full extent of your troubles with your fellow squire?"

"That is all." Nathaniel cast his eyes skyward. "And I thank the Maker for that. I think those two issues are more than enough for us to deal with."

They didn't speak again about their plans until they had made camp for the evening. Fenris assigned himself the job of cooking once more, and he was determined to use the bulk of their supplies before they reached Ansburg. Given the expansive task they had before them, he doubted that they would leave the city any time soon and so their food stores would go bad before then. Hawke helped him out in the beginning with finding the different ingredients and the like, but after everything had been added to the pot, there was little for the mageling to do.

It was out of boredom that she turned to questioning Nathaniel. She wandered away from the fire and sat down next to the archer. "So you said that you wanted Fenris to scout out the alienage for you," she said conversationally. "What am I supposed to do?"

"I thought that would be obvious. You'll scout for blood magic, of course," was the archer's ready reply.

"If the margrave is under the influence of blood magic, I should be able to tell just by speaking with him," Hawke said. "The problem is getting in a situation in which I would speak with him."

"Oh that's not a problem at all." Nathaniel dismissed her concerns with a wave of his hand. "I'll introduce you as a cousin of mine, and we'll get you into the castle that way."

Fenris had been paying attention to their conversation while he minded the pot and he did not like what he heard. He did not like the idea of abandoning Hawke to a castle potentially full of blood mages while he slummed about the alienage. Satisfied that the food was not in danger of burning in the near future, he stalked over to loom over the archer. "That is unacceptable," he said firmly. "You will not split us up like that. We are a team," he told the other man.

"Funny. I rather thought you were a bit more than that."

Fenris was saved from having to react to that snide remark by Hawke kicking the other man in the leg. "Stop that," she said, wrinkling her nose. "That's not Fenris meant and you know it."

"Besides," she went on, "Fenris is right. The two of us are a team, and that means we do our best work when we are together. I won't be much use at all if I'm up each night worrying about how Fenris is faring in the alienage."

Fenris frowned, unhappy that Hawke still had that notion she had to protect him still stuck in her head. He was quite capable of taking care of himself—well so long as no foul magic was involved—and there was no need for her to lose sleep over his safety. Still this was not the time for such a private conversation, not when they had to make it clear to the archer that they would not be separated.

"So are you suggesting that you want me to get Fenris into the castle as well?" Nathaniel shot a disbelieving look at Hawke. "Getting a pretty girl in is one thing. Everyone will believe that you're my cousin, especially since no one in the Free Marches has any concept of who's who in Ferelden. An elf is a different matter. The only elves in the castle are servants, I fear."

Hawke leaped upon that admission. "Then that works in our favor," she announced. "Fenris can be my bodyguard. It's a subterfuge we've used often in the past." Fenris found himself nodding his head in agreement with Hawke's proposal. Though he wasn't fond of being taken for a servant, that was preferable to being separated from his Hawke.

"Your bodyguard? Do you have any idea of how strange that sounds? Why would any maiden need a bodyguard in the safety of the margrave's castle?"

"Because it's not safe," Hawke said through gritted teeth. "As your kidnapping proves. You can say that you hired Fenris to keep me safe from whatever enemies are haunting your steps. Who can argue with a nobleman doing what he has to do to keep his female relative safe after he has been threatened himself?"

Nathaniel cocked his head, considering the suggestion that Hawke had made. "It could work," he said finally. "Fereldans are thought to be barbarians after all. I could mention that I'd prefer a mabari but given that there are none around, an elven warrior with no local ties is the next best thing."

"That sounds like just the thing a Fereldan fresh off the turnip cart would say," said Hawke.

"Ha! There is that." Nathaniel frowned then. "Although if Fenris acts are your bodyguard, that doesn't give him much time to prowl the alienage for clues."

"I doubt my services will always be needed," Fenris spoke up. "For example, I'll hardly be needed if you're around to personally see to your cousin's safety."

"That could work very well," Hawke said. "You can say that you've hired Fenris to watch over me when you can't," she told Nathaniel. "In turn, that might make Fenris a more attractive potential recruit to the thieves' guild because he can come and go to the castle as he pleases."

"It might also make the thieves' guild more reluctant to contact Fenris, knowing that he's working for me," Nathaniel disagreed.

Hawke shrugged her shoulders. "There is always that possibility. I think that it's just as likely that they'll try to win Fenris over because he works for you and you're a target that they're after," she replied airily.

The archer's shoulders tensed up, and that clue was enough for Fenris to tell that their new companion did not appreciate how Hawke had so readily brushed his concerns aside. The elven warrior checked a sigh. It was time for him to intervene before the conversation got heated. "You are both right," the elf stated, his tone decisive. "My position as a bodyguard might scare the thieves' guild away from me or it might attract them to me. It's impossible for us to predict how they will react. We cannot plan for all contingencies. The only thing we can do is be flexible and adapt to changing circumstances as best we can."

Fenris could tell that neither of his companions entirely appreciated his reasoning. The archer remained silent, stewing over his words. Meanwhile, from the set of Hawke's chin, it was clear that she was not going to let Fenris have the last word. She looked up at him from her spot on the ground, her eyes blazing passionately.

"You're probably right, Fenris," she said lightly. "Actually scratch that. You usually are right. However there are some things I won't ever agree to, and chief amongst them all is that I will never agree to be separated from you." Her gaze cut over to the archer, who appeared startled about how fierce the mageling could be. "I've lost my family once already and that was more than enough. Fenris is the only one I have right now, and if you think I'll be all right with any plan that keeps him away from me, then you have another thing coming."

Unable to meet Hawke's stare, the archer looked away from her. "Understood," said Nathaniel simply. His eyes flicked over to Fenris. "You're luckier than you'll ever know, my friend, to have your woman be so devoted to you. Would it that we were all so lucky." A heavy sigh escaped the archer's lips. Then in a single motion, he leapt to his feet and stalked away from camp, leaving the two lovers behind.

"Something tells me that he hasn't been lucky in love," Hawke said. She rose to her feet as well and brushed off the dirt from her robes with her hands.

"That may very well be," Fenris said sternly, "but it is not our place to pry. He is paying us well enough. We should leave him alone and let him keep his dignity."

Hawke snorted. "I'm not sure he has any to start," she grumbled. A wicked look flashed across her face. Hawke put her hands behind her back and crossed her legs, looking up at Fenris through her eyelashes. "But since he's been kind enough to leave the two of us alone, perhaps there are better ways to use our time?"

"There may be indeed," Fenris said huskily. He stepped closer to his mageling, shortening the distance between them. He cupped Hawke's face in one hand and tilted it up so he could kiss her. Before his lips could touch hers, however, his nose caught the scent of a foul smell. His eyes crossed as he realized what that smell was.

"Blast!" he swore, letting go of Hawke and turning towards the fire. "I forgot about our dinner!" He quickly made his way back where he had left dinner cooking, with Hawke close on his heels. Thankfully dinner wasn't unsalvageable, but by the time they were done, their other companion had returned and their time alone had ended.

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><p>Fenris was feeling decidedly grumpy the next day. Hawke had slept with him last night, cuddling up against his side the way she always did and leaving him hot and bothered. It was absolutely maddening to feel her soft breasts pressed up against his chest but have to refrain from caressing her curves the way he longed to. The elf was used to being able to do something about the feelings Hawke always arose with him. However, as the two of them now had another traveling companion, that wasn't exactly possible, especially when that companion was within earshot.<p>

It didn't help matters that the blasted archer couldn't take a hint and leave them alone. Fenris had been as blunt as he could be when he had asked the archer to scout around while he and Hawke prepared breakfast. Though Nathaniel agreed to do as such readily enough, he finished scouting their surroundings in a matter of minutes and returned to camp all too quickly, which only added to the elf's frustrations. It took all of his considerable self-control not to order the archer to scout their surroundings again and this time do a proper job of it.

Of course, the other problem with not having any time alone with Hawke was that Fenris still hadn't had that conversation he had promised her. He worried that the longer he let that fool notion that she needed to protect him go unchallenged, the more likely it would take root in her head and that he would never be able to convince her otherwise. The mere idea of him needing a guardian was laughable. He was more than capable of taking care of himself, and he believed he had proven that time and time again. The only thing Fenris feared was blood magic. For that, he did count on Hawke to shield him. However even then, the mageling could work her magic from safely behind him. There was no reason for her to ever engage their enemies physically. While her staff wasn't a useless weapon, it still wasn't a very effective one and so she needed to stay outside of the fray, like any good mage would. Hawke was stubborn though and often too willing to ignore common sense. Fenris just wished that his mageling wouldn't do so for his sake.

"Anything wrong, Fenris?" Hawke asked. He glanced over at her to see that she was looking at him with concern in her eyes. "You've seemed out of sorts all morning long."

Fenris clenched his fists. The truth was he had been out of sorts all morning, but that wasn't due to Hawke. Or rather he as grumpy because of what he hadn't been able to do to Hawke. "It is of no moment," he said.

"Are you certain? If it's anything I did, I didn't mean—"

"You did nothing wrong," he hastened to reassure her. "If I am a little more…." He cast about, searching for a word to describe his mood.

"A little more broody," Hawke prompted him.

Fenris grimaced but accepted her description. It was rather fitting given the state he was in. "That will do," he said. "As I was saying, if I'm a little more broody today, it's because I'm mourning the fact that we won't be able to spend much time alone together."

"Oh I don't know about that." Hawke wrinkled her nose and bit her lower lip. "I'm positive I'll think of something. I always do."

A sigh sounded from behind them. "I would say that inviting strange elves into your bedchambers is hardly lady-like, but most of the ladies I know are always up for what they like to call adventure," Nathaniel said with a shake of his head. "However there is one last detail I've been meaning to clear up with you and that's the matter of your name."

"You know my name," the mageling replied promptly. "It's Hawke."

The archer gave her a look. "That's your family name, I'm sure. No Fereldan would name their daughter Hawke. What's your given name?"

"I go by Hawke," Hawke said tersely.

"Look, I'm only asking because it's better for us to use your real first name when I introduce you. That way you don't have to remember what name you're supposed to answer to."

"Well the only name I'm used to answering to is Hawke. By your reasoning, that's what we should go with."

"Is she always this difficult?" Nathaniel asked as an aside to Fenris. Not waiting for an answer from the elf, he turned his attention back towards the mageling. "How about this? I gave you both my family name and my given name. It's only fair that you pay me the same courtesy."

The archer looked expectantly at Hawke, but the mageling remained firm. "No," she said with a stubborn lift of her chin. "I shan't. I'm not very fond of my first name and I see no reason why I should give it to you so you can torture me with it."

"It can't be that bad," the archer replied.

"Doesn't matter. I don't like it."

Nathaniel rolled his shoulders back, the only sign of his frustration. The archer seemed to know that he was fighting a losing battle though. "Very well then. If you don't want to share your first name with us, then I guess I'll have to think up of a name we can use for you. What do you think of Hortensia?"

Hawke's jaw dropped. "I think that's ghastly. What parent would ever be so cruel to shackle their child with that name?"

"A pious one. Hortensia was the name of more than one divine you know."

"That doesn't change a thing. The name's still ghastly. This may come as a surprise to you but saddling a child with a name that bad, no matter how pious it might be, will only subject the poor thing to much teasing and taunting."

"Fine. How do you feel about Iphigenia?"

The mageling shuddered visibly. "Um…no. And might I just add that I feel sorry for any children you might have. Your taste in names is questionable at best."

"Is that so? So don't you agree that it would be better for us to use the name your parents gave you rather than one I think up?"

Fenris stifled a chuckle. He could see where this was leading. The archer was trying to wheedle Hawke's given name out of her. It was a decent strategy, but one that failed to take into account how hardheaded the mageling could be when she put her mind to it. He doubted that they would be able to learn Hawke's name so easily, not when it was clear that she was set against divulging it.

His assessment of the situation turned out to be correct. "You know that's not the only option available. We can always use a name that I choose," said the mageling.

"We could…except I'll be the one introducing you. So pretty much what I say goes, I think," Nathaniel responded.

Hawke pouted openly. "You really are a bastard," she muttered.

"I assure you my parents were married when I was born." The archer's tone was calm now that he was sure he had the upper hand. "But never you worry. Despite your claims, I am not unreasonable. Since you dislike Hortensia and Iphigenia so much, I'll use the time we have a left to think of a more suitable name for you." He paused ominously. "Not unless of course you'd rather go with your own."

The mageling was not about to be cowed by such a threat. "Go ahead. Do your worst," she challenged Nathaniel. "It doesn't really matter what you decide to call me. The more awful the name, the better in fact, because that'll make it easier for me to convince everyone to call me Hawke instead."

"Ha! No one is going to call a noble's daughter Hawke!" Nathaniel declared. "I can see that you have a lot to learn." He grinned wickedly. "And watching you learn," he continued, "is going to be fun."

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> Thanks so much for reading. I'd appreciate it ever so muchly if you could leave a review to let me know what you think.


	39. Chapter 36

**Promises: Chapter Thirty-Six  
><strong>

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

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><p>As a city, Ansburg was more on the scale of Wycombe rather than Antiva City or Rialto. While it was much larger than any town they had passed through, it was still not half as large as though two cities in Antiva or even Minrathous in Tevinter. For this, Fenris was grateful. He liked to think that their job would be easier just because there were less places for criminals to congregate. He hoped he was right, not only for his sake but for Hawke's. Hawke had put on her best set of mage robes in preparation to play her roles as Nathaniel's cousin, but evidently that had not been enough. The archer took it upon himself to instruct the mageling on how she should act ever since breakfast that morning. Hawke was bearing up well all things considered, but Fenris did not know how long she would be able to last.<p>

When the three of them arrived at the castle, they had been set upon by a veritable army of servants. Nathaniel quickly sent them scurrying, with a command that Lady Elsa be requested so that he could introduce his cousin to said lady. While they waited, Nathaniel explained that Lady Elsa was the margravine's mother, and that she was responsible for overseeing the young ladies at court. Said lady must not have been far away for it only took a matter of minutes until she came.

"Nathaniel, dear boy!" exclaimed a tall woman with iron-grey hair pulled up into a bun. She swept down the steps and enveloped the archer in a hug. "When you did not report in after your morning ride, we all feared the worst," she said. "I am ever so relieved to see that you are all right."

"My apologies." Nathaniel took a step back and sketched a bow. "I am sorry for not giving anyone advance notice of my departure. Mother had written to me previously to tell me that my cousin would be arriving at Eastgate and that I should meet her there, but alas she failed to mention that my cousin would be here so soon. I set off right away when I learned that my cousin was already in the Marches. I hope you understand."

The lady's brown eyes cut over to Hawke and examined the mageling critically. "Your devotion to your family is admirable, Nathaniel, but in the future, you would do best to remember to leave a note," she said gently.

"You are right indeed, my lady. I thought it wouldn't take that long for me to retrieve my cousin—a half day at best—but unfortunately I was beset by bandits on my way to meet her. If it wasn't for the aid of Fenris here," Nathaniel gestured towards the elf with his hand, "I doubt I would have made it at all."

"Bandits? Between Eastgate and here?" Lady Else clasped her hands to her mouth in horror. "By the Maker, they have gotten bold. I will have to say something to the margrave about that. He should increase patrols at the very least, and if it doesn't improve between now and the harvest, then he might need to offer a reward to be rid of them."

"Let us hope it doesn't come to that," was Nathaniel's even response. He then turned to Hawke and motioned her forward. The mageling looked a little put out at being ordered about so, but nevertheless she did as asked and walked up to take a spot by Nathaniel's side. He took her arm and pushed her in front of him. "And please forgive my lack of manners in not introducing my cousin to you earlier. May I present my cousin, Alfonsine Howe?" He sketched another bow, subtly jabbing Hawke in the back to prod the mageling into curtseying awkwardly.

"The pleasure is all mine." The lady curtseyed with all the grace that Hawke lacked. She looked over Hawke from head to toe and then sniffed. "Forgive me for asking, but are those truly the latest fashion in Ferelden?" She held up a hand to forestall Hawke's answer. "Never mind. That question was not worthy of either me or you. I am glad your cousin Nathaniel had the foresight enough to ask for me. If the rest of your clothes are anything like that, then I am afraid you are going to need a new wardrobe straight away."

With that as preamble, the lady whisked Hawke away. Fenris naturally started to follow but was held back by the archer. "Don't. Trust me. You don't want to follow them. Spending any amount of time in Lady Elsa's presence when she gets a new project is not something any man should suffer. We will simply have to catch up with my cousin at dinner." The archer smirked. "I am positive that her transformation will be nothing short of amazing."

"You did that on purpose," Fenris accused him. "Because of all the times Hawke—"

"Yes, my cousin was quite the nuisance on the road," Nathaniel loudly interrupted him before he could finish that sentence. "But then _Alfonsine _was always a difficult child," he continued, emphasizing the name he had saddled Hawke with. "She always preferred to play outside rather than stay indoors and study her embroidery."

Fenris winced at that. He had remembered Hawke's pitiful attempts at repairing her own robes. He hoped for her sake that she wouldn't be subjected to embroidery here in Ansburg. The mageling would surely hate it.

However Nathaniel was right. He couldn't exactly follow Hawke and Lady Elsa when the latter was planning a day full of fitting while getting her latest charge acquainted with the castle. So it was he tagged along with the archer to the great hall as he sought out the seneschal to make arrangements for their lodgings.

"Your cousin is here?" The seneschal frowned down at Nathaniel. "You might have said something about that before you left, lad. Worried many of us you did. But never mind that," he added quickly, waving aside Nathaniel's apologies. "You're here now and so long as you never do that again, there's nothing to forgive."

"As for your cousin," the seneschal went on. "She can stay in the north wing along with all the other maidens."

"No," the archer said firmly. "I would prefer that she stay near me. Next door if possible."

"That is most irregular," the seneschal replied. "I doubt that Lady Elsa would approve of such an arrangement."

"Nevertheless I insist. While traveling to pick up my cousin, I was attacked by bandits," the archer explained. "I have reason to believe that the attack was not random."

"That may be so, but you are staying in the castle, lad. Your cousin is safe within these walls."

"While I hope that is true, the road from here to Eastgate was supposed to be safe as well. I was wrong then. I won't be caught being so wrong again, especially not when it comes to my younger cousin's safety. I want her lodged in the room next to me," the archer insisted. "And let's put Fenris in the room on the other side of hers. That way my cousin will be doubly protected."

The older man heaved a sigh. "Very well, lad, if you insist. People will talk you know."

"Better that than have something happen to poor little Alfonsine." Nathaniel seemed to be taking a perverse pleasure in using Hawke's name. "She used to follow me around Amaranthine like a puppy. I couldn't bear it if she got hurt."

"And that's exactly why people will talk," the seneschal muttered. However he ended his protests and handed a pair of keys to Nathaniel, telling the archer as he did so that the rooms would not be ready until early afternoon.

"That's fine," Nathaniel said. "We can send Fenris' pack to my room in the meantime. As for little Alfonsine, I do not think that Lady Elsa will allow her to keep much of what she brought from Fereldan."

"Of that I have no doubt," the seneschal snorted. "The margravine's mother is nothing if not effective when it comes to doing well by her charges. Now off with you, my boy. I still have plenty of work to do and not enough time to do it."

That was a clear dismissal. Nathaniel used the rest of the afternoon to show Fenris around the castle, from the kitchen and stable all the way to the large room where dinner would be served later. "Dinner is usually held here," Nathaniel said as he stood just outside of the room, the tour now completed. "Unless there's a dance or a gala or some other event going on. Then the festivities take place in the ballroom naturally."

Fenris nodded his head. He had the impression that the archer was trying to fill their time between now and dinner. That rather surprised him as he thought that Nathaniel would have to report back given that he was a squire. "If you have something else to do, I can bide my time elsewhere and meet up with you for dinner," Fenris offered. "That is if you want me to be there, of course." He wasn't sure what the etiquette was when it came to bringing a bodyguard around.

"Yes, you'll be there if only to keep an eye on my cousin," Nathaniel replied. "Squires normally don't have a bodyguard but you're really more for Alfonsine's protection than my own," he went on, effortlessly keeping up the story he had concocted. "As it is, I should report in for my daily training at the armory. You can come along if you like."

The elf readily agreed to that course of action, and they were off once more with the armory as their destination this time. Nathaniel was enthusiastically greeted by several of his fellow squires when he arrived. Their affection seemed genuine, and more than one expressed relief over the fact that the Howe had returned to Ansburg safely. Fenris hung back awkwardly, not wanting to intrude, but eventually the conversation turned to him—and Hawke.

"So rumor has it that you did not return alone," said one squire. His blond hair gleamed in the sun, and there was a calculating look in his brown eyes.

"Has the gossip mill started already?" Nathaniel asked mockingly. "Although it doesn't reflect well on you, Davis, for you to always be the first one to hear things."

Davis shrugged his shoulders. "What can I say? I like to stay informed. But rumor has it that you returned with your younger, female cousin…and that she's truly a tempting morsel."

"Watch it. That's my baby cousin you're talking about." Nathaniel's voice held a hint of warning, but that was hardly enough to satisfy Fenris. A surge of jealousy rushed through the elf as he realized that these young nobles had already started to eye _his _mageling as if they had the right even to touch Hawke.

"A man can't help but appreciate a bird as fine as that," the other squire replied. "Care to introduce me at dinner tonight?"

"No, I don't actually." Then the archer sighed dramatically. "I was afraid of this though. I was wondering what my mother and my aunt were thinking, sending my cousin here despite how young and innocent she still is. Thankfully I took precautions." He jabbed a thumb in Fenris' direction. "I've hired help so I can make sure that my cousin is well protected from any idiots who come sniffing around her skirts."

The other squires all looked over at Fenris. "So you hired an elf to play nanny for your cousin?" called out another squire from the back. "Then she really must be something else."

"Aye. I know better than to trust you all especially with how naïve Alfonsine is," the archer stated. "By the way, go ahead and underestimate Fenris. He may be an elf, but he's one of the best swordsmen I've ever seen."

"And what would an archer know about swordsmanship?"

"Not much," Howe admitted. "But what I learned, I learned from Teyrn Loghain. Can any of you match that?"

Fenris' raised both eyebrows at that bold statement. They had heard of Loghain even as far away from Tevinter, and he was renowned for his prowess with a blade. While Nathaniel's chosen weapon might be the bow, Fenris was certain that the archer was none too shabby with a sword if his teacher had been that legend from Ferelden.

That seemed to settle the small crowd of squires, and they moved on from the topic of Hawke, much to Fenris' relief. He didn't appreciate even the thought of another man making a play for Hawke's affections. While the elf knew that Hawke deserved better than him, he wasn't prepared to give his mageling up to any man. Now he couldn't help but hope that they would finish this job sooner rather than later in order to preserve his own sanity.

Nathaniel was soon challenged to an impromptu archery contest. Not knowing what else to do, Fenris tagged along though he lagged behind the group of squires. He wound up being very impressed by what he witnessed. The contest was nothing of the sort; there was not a man amongst the other squires who was half the archer that Nathaniel was. If Fenris hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he would have been firmly convinced that some of the shots that the Howe made was impossible.

With everyone else being so outclassed, the contest did not last long. The other squires saw the futility in trying to keep pace with Nathaniel and drifted away, and so the contest became something more of a practice for the man. While it was still interesting to watch, Fenris' thoughts began to wander. There was plenty of free space in the armory and he considered stepping away. It had been awhile since he had last been able to freely practice his forms, and such practice would be good for him. Fenris was more accustomed to charging the enemy in order to provide a distraction for the magisters hiding behind him. However, given Hawke's new predilection for being on the front lines, it might behoove him to focus more on defensive maneuvers.

Before Fenris could put that thought into action, he was distracted by the sound of rustling skirts. He immediately turned towards the entrance, hoping to catch glimpse of Hawke. To his disappointment, it wasn't Hawke entering the armory but rather the Lady Elsa. The lady made a beeline towards Nathaniel. Fenris coughed loudly to alert the other man to their visitor, and the archer put up his bow just in time to greet Elsa.

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow as he realized that Hawke was no where in sight. "Lady Elsa," he said, inclining his head, "I must admit that I'm surprised to see you again so soon. Is everything all right?"

"No, but it will be," the lady declared. "I am afraid that your cousin's wardrobe is a total loss. I have allowed the child to keep a few things for sentimental value—it wouldn't do to get rid of everything she has brought from home—but I have to say that I have never seen a girl so ill-prepared for court. Did you know she didn't bother to bring a single corset?"

A large smirk appeared on Nathaniel's face, and he opened his mouth, no doubt to utter some sly comment. However before he could speak, the lady pressed on regarding Hawke's adventures in clothing.

"Actually given the fuss she made about being fitted into a corset, I could almost believe that the child has never worn one. Not that she needs one with her figure—the Maker has truly blessed her with that—but still. What sort of mother would allow their child to go as long without—"

"My cousin is from the countryside," Nathaniel loudly interrupted Lady Elsa, "and so I fear that she has been allowed to run amuck as she pleased. Whenever she visited my family, she preferred to tag along with me and my friends rather than join the other maidens inside the castle."

"Maker's grace!" The lady clutched her hands to her chest. "That poor dear! No wonder she is practically a spinster. She should have been married ages ago, especially with her beauty, but who wants the trouble of a wild wife?" Lady Elsa straightened her spine, somehow gaining a couple inches in height, and her jaw was set with determination. "Well I am very glad that your mother finally had the good sense to take your cousin away from her admittedly neglectful parents and send her hear. Don't you fear, my dear. In a matter of months, your cousin will be fit to be the wife of any man, including the king."

"He's married," Nathaniel said blandly. "Though he is the sort to keep on looking," he added thoughtfully.

Lady Elsa shot the archer a glare, albeit not for the same reasons that caused Fenris to try boring a hole into Nathaniel's head with only his stare. "I would hope that you keep a civil, polite tongue when talking with Alfonsine. Your cousin has enough to overcome as it is. The last thing she needs is you encouraging more bad behavior. Thank you, dear boy, for explaining her situation. I have a lot to do between now and dinner to make Alfonsine presentable. I will take my leave of you now, but mark my words, you will be stunned at the transformation you will see tonight."

"Speaking of which," added Lady Elsa with a wrinkle of her nose, "might I suggest that both you and your new servant seek out a bath? I would like to be able to smell the food tonight at dinner rather than the two of you. Honestly! Only a man would think that he can come in from the road, all dusty and dirty, and not need to clean himself." She sniffed once and then hurried off in a flurry of skirts as she left the armory.

"That would be our marching orders then," Nathaniel remarked after the old woman had left. "She may seem like the grandmotherly sort—and to be fair, she usually is—but Maker have mercy on anyone who ignores an order from her like that."

Fenris was not opposed to a bath. Rather he was looking forward to it, given how long it had been since he had last enjoyed one. However the woman's choice of words did not sit well with him. "Transformation?" he repeated. "She means Hawke?" He was of the opinion that when it came to both manners and clothing, Hawke did not need to change her ways. What was even worse was he didn't like the idea of her changing in order to attract a husband the way Lady Elsa had implied. Hawke didn't need to find a man to take care of her; she had him.

"I see my cousin has managed to convince you to use that ridiculous nickname she's come up with," Nathaniel replied, a tad bit loudly for the benefit of anyone eavesdropping. "I will thank you to call her by her proper name in public at the very least. I can understand that it is difficult to tell her no. Maker knows that her parents never did."

"In any event, we will see just how different Alfonsine is tonight. Although I have the utmost respect for Lady Elsa's abilities, I have no doubt that my cousin will prove to be a challenge."

Fenris wanted to protest further, but he held his tongue. It would not be wise to compromise their identities right after they had arrived in Ansburg. So he allowed the other man to take the lead, which was necessary since Nathaniel was the only one who knew the way back to their quarters. Fenris took care to keep track of his surroundings; if things went pear-shaped, he wanted to be able to escape with his mageling without needing a guide to show them the way out.

There was a tub full of steaming water in both of their rooms when they arrived, no doubt courtesy of the very lady who ordered them to make themselves presentable. Fenris suddenly felt the grime of the road most acutely, and he needed no encouragement to get into the bath. It was the work of the moment to send the servants who had brought the tub scurrying away, telling them that they should attend to Nathaniel instead of a mere bodyguard such as himself.

Once he was alone, he wasted no time in stripping off his armor and getting clean. He would have liked to linger longer than he did, but Fenris knew that his armor was also in need of a cleaning. Thus after he had finished, he spent the rest of the afternoon seeing to his armor, ridding it of dirt and mending it where needed. He put his armor back on after he had finished. He then proceeded to walk over to Nathaniel's room and knocked on the door.

The archer opened the door. He raised an eyebrow as he took in Fenris' attire. "I'm not sure that's proper dinner wear," he noted mildly. Nathaniel gestured to his own fine green tunic and soft brown trousers. "Do you have anything else? Generally armor is not—"

"I can hardly function as a bodyguard for you and your precious cousin if I am not properly prepared," Fenris interrupted him. "The armor stays."

"And the sword? Yes, yes, I know that you insist on being armed but perhaps something smaller and less intrusive would do?"

"No," was the elf's firm reply.

"I see." The archer heaved a sigh. "Very well then. Just remember while I'm well-mannered enough not to make jokes about you feeling the need to compensate for your deficiencies, not everyone else is."

Fenris bristled. He could tell when he was being mock. "Better that than to be caught unprepared," he said.

"Seeing how you're responsible for looking after the safety of my cousin and myself, I'm not going to argue with you. The Lady Elsa might take offense. Do be careful, will you? You wouldn't want to become another one of the lady's projects."

That sounded mildly ominous to Fenris' ears, and he pondered its meaning as they returned to the dining hall. There was a crowd of nobles lingering near the door way, all chattering loudly. "That's strange," Nathaniel remarked. "Usually everyone just goes in. There's no standing on formalities here. I wonder what—"

The archer trailed off as they heard Lady Elsa speak up. "Go on now!" Elsa cried out, from somewhere in the center of the crowd. "Enough of this. There will be time for introductions later, proper ones at that." Slowly the nobles did as she bade them. The crowd thinned out as they trailed into the dining hall, letting both Fenris and Nathaniel catch glimpse of the cause of such excitement.

It was Hawke. Yet this was Hawke as he had never seen her before. He had known from the start that his Hawke was lovely. Indeed she often attracted attention due to her looks, and he believed it to be part of the reason that she was so adept at getting her own way. The Hawke now standing before him was far more than just lovely though. She was heartbreakingly beautiful.

The gown that had been selected for her was a soft rose. The bodice was tightly fitted and cut so that it drew one's eye to the curve of her breasts, which were more pronounced due to the corset she had been stuffed in. The gown was fitted snuggly at her waist, emphasizing how small it was, while the skirt was long and full and trailed behind her. Her hair was piled on top of her head, but some curls had been artfully let loose from it so that her face was framed by her dark locks. A light hand had skillfully make-up on her face; Fenris only noticed it because the slight imperfections of her face had been masked. Somehow her nose looked slightly less narrow and her eyes were slightly less wide. Her lips were painted red and were fuller than usual as though to tempt men into kissing them.

For his part, Fenris was torn. He could guess just why her arrival had caused such a commotion. He longed to take his mageling by the hand and lead her out of the blighted castle, far away from any potential interlopers. But then there was also the more visceral part of him that thought it would be better to claim Hawke's lips for his own and make his claim on her apparent to all those around them. The elf swallowed nervously as he shifted about. His leggings were noticeably tighter at the moment, but if he wanted to keep up their façade there was little he could do to relieve himself right now.

Of course, if any idiot laid a hand on his Hawke, then all bets were off.

Hawke scrunched up her nose and marched straight towards Nathaniel. "You," she said, breathing hard while made her chest move up and down in the most delightful manner, "are simply the most foul person I have ever met. You planned this, didn't you?" She stomped her small foot. "Have I mentioned how much I despise you lately?" she added. She crossed her arms across her chest which didn't help Fenris at all when it came to the tightness of his pants. He was seriously beginning to consider forgetting all about this fool job they had accepted and running away with Hawke. Surely with the castle being so big and large, there had to be some nook or cranny that he could have his wicked way with her without being interrupted.

"Alfonsine!" Lady Elsa called out sharply before Nathaniel could reply. "Is that any way a young lady should talk to her older relatives?"

"He's not older than me," Hawke replied. "At least not mentally. You see, he's a _boy_," Hawke's tone dripped with disdain as she uttered that slur and Nathaniel bristled noticeably, "and everyone knows that it takes forever for boys to grow up."

Lady Elsa clucked her tongue. "Dear child, was such behavior truly allowed by your parents?" she questioned. "I know that your cousin is not your favorite person at the moment. Even so, you should not take out your bad mood on him. It is not his fault that you miss your home."

"Lady Elsa is right," Nathaniel declared. "If you want to complain, complain to your mother. Although I am positive that if she could see you now, properly attired as a lady…I am certain that she would be in tears. You have truly worked a miracle with my cousin, Lady Elsa. I didn't believe it was possible to get her into a real dress rather than those rags she prefers."

"Those rags are more comfortable. I can barely breathe in this thing." Hawke waved a hand at her bodice, indicating the corset beneath.

"You will get used to it with time, my dear," the lady told her kindly. "I fear that this corset might be a little small for you, but alas we have no time to remedy that tonight. The seamstress has taken your measurements, and I assure you that you will have clothes that better fit you in short order. As it is, I am lucky that we were able to find a dress that needed little altering before it could be used tonight." The lady sighed and shook her head.

"Of course, that means you will have more fittings in store for you this week," Nathaniel noted wickedly. "I think that is a good thing. The more practice you have in standing still, the better."

Hawke's head whipped around to glare at the archer. "Oh joy. The prospect of getting stuck with needles has me over the moon," she replied sarcastically.

"That would not happen if you stand still, just as your cousin advised," Lady Elsa told her firmly. "Now enough of this. I expect you to be on your best behavior tonight. And that goes for you as well," she added, looking sharply at Nathaniel. "Don't think that I can't tell when you needle your cousin. The way you two act, one would think that you were brother and sister."

"Thankfully one can tell we are not just by looking at our noses," Hawke put in, needing to have the last word. "I thank the Maker each and every day that I wasn't cursed with my cousin's beak of a nose."

"Touché. If you are done insulting me for the moment, cousin, I believe we have kept both the Lady Elsa as well as your new bodyguard from dinner long enough." Nathaniel made a show of offering his arm to Hawke, which she took gracelessly. Then the archer led Hawke into dining hall, with Lady Elsa clearing the way before them while Fenris brought up the rear, and into the fray that awaited them.

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> And here's the next chapter, though a little later than I would have liked. My thanks for everyone still with this fic. Alas this fic has kind of taken a life of its own, so I'm afraid there is a ways to go before I finally get these two to Kirkwall. Anyway reviews are always appreciated, good or bad, as I'd love to know what you think of this fic so far.


	40. Chapter 37

**Promises: Chapter Thirty-Seven  
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Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

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><p>Thankfully they wound up not having to deal with introductions that evening. After dinner had concluded, Lady Elsa made a beeline towards them, warding off others by exclaiming loudly about how tired they must all be after a long day on the road. As the seneschal had warned, the lady was not pleased when Nathaniel informed her of Hawke's quarters that first night after dinner and she verged on being insulted when the archer continued on to insist that his cousin always be accompanied either by himself or Fenris.<p>

"It simply is not heard of," she protested. She drew a deep breath as though to expound upon her misgivings, but a look at Nathaniel's face was enough to stop her. "But I can see that you are going to be stubborn about this issue. Very well then. I will save my energy for turning your cousin into a proper young lady."

"Good luck," Nathaniel told her, a sardonic smile tugging at her lips. "Maker knows that my mother tried and failed."

"I suspect a lack of support from you and your fellow males might have contributed to such failure. You and your manservant may escort your cousin everywhere so long as you will not encourage misbehavior on her part. That means no taunting," the old lady added with a shake of her finger.

There wasn't much Nathaniel could say in response to that because he did like to bait the mageling. So he held his tongue and nodded his acquiescence, and that was that when it came to arranging to have Hawke always be with one of them, ostensibly for her own protection.

The castle at Ansburg was almost like a living creature, and it did not take long until both Hawke and Fenris were assimilated into its hectic schedule. Their first couple of days at the castle was filled with fitting. Nathaniel took the prudent course and commanded Fenris in front of everyone to guard his female cousin, stating rather loudly that he was beginning to get rusty for lack of archery practice. Such a notion was laughable, but Fenris was disciplined enough not to crack a grin.

He soon realized what misery fittings were. The archer had been right the day before when he warned Fenris that he didn't want to sit through them. Though he was not allowed in the room, he sat just outside the door. He could hear every word that passed between Hawke, the Lady Elsa, and the seamstress. Hawke wasn't very good at standing still—something that surprised Fenris because that was never a problem during battle—and so was often poked by needles.

"Ow!" Hawke cried for what must have been the hundredth time.

"Must you screech so, child?" Lady Elsa asked, her voice clearly conveying her exasperation. "It is hardly proper behavior for a young lady such as yourself."

"Well I hardly think that a proper fitting should include getting stabbed so often," Hawke retorted.

"That wouldn't happen if you just stopped moving about so much," was the old lady's reply. "I have to say that you seem to start fidgeting as soon as poor Amanda here picks up her needle."

"It's not my fault. I've been poked so often that I can't help but flinch once this blasted fitting starts again."

"Alfonsine! Watch your tongue!" Elsa said sharply. "Your cousin may have used such vulgar language around you, but that is not something you should repeat especially not in public."

"Let me guess. It's not proper. Well I used to think that it wasn't proper to go around and stab people repeatedly in broad daylight, but I guess I was wrong," Hawke sniped. "Besides I can hardly be blamed for my language after all the injuries I've suffered today."

"The young lady has no shortage of excuses," the seamstress murmured quietly. "I am sure that we can all be thankful that I am finished with this gown however."

"That is simply the best news I have heard all day. Are we done yet?" Hawke asked. Fenris silently prayed that they were. It was dull just to sit and listen to what was happening in that room. Of course, boredom was preferable to his thoughts wandering over to the last time he had heard Hawke cry out so often. The elven warrior gulped and then closed his eyes, silently willing himself not to think of things he could not have at the moment.

It didn't help.

"We are done with your gowns, child, but don't forget that I promised we would work on getting your corset to fit you better." Lady Elsa ignored Hawke's groan of despair. "I think that we need to see what we can do to make the boning work with your figure. I also think we can let out the laces a bit. I think we probably tied them too tight yesterday in our rush to get Alfonsine ready for dinner."

"Oh so you mean maybe I could breathe in it then?" Hawke asked with bated breath.

That only earned her a snort from the other women in the room. "It is not fitted properly if you can breathe freely. That being said, I did notice that you struggled overmuch just walking about and so we can do something about that," Elsa told her. "You should thank the Maker that you do not need help with your figure and so your laces do not need to be pulled completely tight."

That apparently did little to assuage the mageling's feelings for she heaved a sigh then and there, sounding most put out. It took the better part of the morning before Hawke's fittings were finished. Fenris stood at attention as he heard footsteps approaching the door. Lady Elsa exited first followed by Hawke and then the seamstress.

The mageling shot Fenris a look of derision as she passed by him "Aren't you supposed to be my bodyguard? You're not very good at it, are you, seeing how you just stood out here and let me be mauled in there," she told him snidely.

Fenris was taken aback. Hawke truly seemed to be in a poor mood. He didn't know just what exactly she thought he could have done. If he had tried to interfere, at best he would have been wildly unsuccessful while at worst he would have blown their cover.

"Alfonsine! Keep your chin up, and remember a lady should never slouch." Elsa's interruption was most welcomed by Fenris at first, but then she turned her critical eye on him. "You do seem to be well-versed on what your duties require," she remarked. "I did notice last night, however, that you wore your armor to dinner when it was not needed."

Fenris coughed nervously as he remembered Nathaniel's warning to him the day before. He did not want to join Hawke in her misery as one of Lady Elsa's pet projects, no matter how much he adored his mageling. "I have found that it helps to look intimidating in my chosen profession," he told the old lady evenly.

"I suppose that is true. It is possible though to look intimidating without being quite so spiky," Lady Elsa pointed out. She turned towards the seamstress. "Amanda, do be a dear and see what articles of clothing we can spare for Fenris here. I believe he is of a size with Langley. If you could have delivered whatever clothes you find to his quarters, that would be most appreciated. That way Alfonsine's bodyguard will be able to accompany to her and her cousin to dinner tonight without the armor."

Fenris winced. That didn't sound good. "I can hardly protect the young lady if I am not allowed the necessary tools, my lady," he protested.

"I never said that you couldn't bring your sword along," was the lady's airy reply. "That should be compromise enough."

The elf checked a sigh. He knew that there was no point in arguing any further because he could hardly expect to win against the Lady Elsa, not when she all but ran the castle. Hawke, however, chose that moment to try and add to his misery. "Shouldn't we arrange for a fitting for him too?" she asked, all too sweetly. "It wouldn't do to have his clothes fall off during dinner."

Fenris bit back a groan but fortunately he was saved by Lady Elsa. "No, we do not need a fitting for your bodyguard. The only time we subject men to such things is for weddings, and trust me, they protest enough then as it is. I hardly have enough energy to go around and arrange fittings for all the men of this castle. I would never be able to get anything done."

"Well it would make me feel better if I had someone to suffer along with me," Hawke mumbled under her breath. She let the topic drop, but Fenris felt positive that his mageling would raise it again the next time they were alone together. Which hopefully would be sooner rather than later, for while it seemed as though Hawke didn't appreciate Lady Elsa's efforts, Fenris certainly could. Whatever faults the old lady had, she definitely had a sense of style. The gown she had chosen today for Hawke highlighted the mageling's figure once more, emphasizing all of her tempting curves. Of course, that made him long for this blasted job to be over already. He had considered going over to visit Hawke in her room last night, but he had decided against it after learning that the castle sometimes had roving patrols. Getting caught coming out of Hawke's room would have all sorts of nasty consequences.

"In any event, now that we have you properly outfitted, I daresay it is high time for us to access your domestic skills," Lady Elsa announced, rousing Fenris from his thoughts.

"Domestic skills?" Hawke perked up. "You mean like cooking? Perhaps this is a bit immodest but I do make an excellent turnip soup if I do say so myself."

The lady stopped dead in her tracks. She slowly turned around and then looked at the mageling. The old woman sighed softly upon realizing that Hawke wasn't trying to be funny. "Your mother allowed you in the kitchen to cook? On a regular basis?"

"Oh I wouldn't say on a regular basis," Hawke replied. "I always wanted to spend more time in there than I was allowed."

"I see." The lady tilted her head to one side as she continued questioning Hawke. "I don't suppose that you were ever allowed to plan dinner?"

"Well when I cooked, I would decide what was on the table of course," Hawke answered.

"That isn't quite what I meant. I meant did you ever decide what courses to serve at a large dinner with guests?" Hawke shook her head no. "How about planning the seating layout and determining who should sit next to whom?

"No," said Hawke. "Honestly we very rarely had guests over," she went on. Though her intent was to keep up their disguise, Fenris got the feeling that she was telling nothing but the truth. A family of apostates wouldn't want guests over very often for fear of being caught. Still Hawke had had a loving childhood. He had to wonder if that contributed to Hawke being so much better balanced than any other mage he had ever dealt with.

"In that case, I guess there wouldn't have been many opportunities for you to practice such duties. While I can understand that your mother wanted nothing to go wrong on those rare occasions when you had guests, still she should have given you a chance to plan a dinner on your own. That being said, it is not too difficult to make seating arrangements, not if you have a good grasp of the basics of polite society." Lady Elsa led them away towards the center of the castle and to the large sitting room that served as her office. Hawke followed her inside the room without question while Fenris hung back, not certain if he should do so as well. A wave of the lady's hand, however, told him that he was allowed inside.

He stood beside the door as both the women took seats. The lady rang for tea. Rather than letting the servant pour the tea for them, however, she sent the servant away and then directed Hawke to pour them each a cup. Fenris supposed that Hawke's tea skills weren't a complete disaster given that she didn't break anything and actually managed to get most of the tea into the cups, but the expression on the lady's face made it clear that she thought otherwise.

"Let me guess," Elsa said after Hawke had gingerly pushed a cup of tea her way. "Your mother didn't often sit down and have tea with you, did she?" She rubbed her fingers against her temples as though trying to ward off a headache. "You do not need to answer that, child. I think I already know what your response would be. Never mind that. Let us move on."

The lady then proceeded to quiz Hawke on the various noble families of the Free Marches. Surprisingly enough she was able to answer some of the questions, but she was absolutely hopeless when it came to remembering titles. By now, Lady Elsa's frustration was quite apparent and was starting to affect even Hawke.

"Well how should I know that you're supposed to a call the Viscount of Kirkwall 'your Grace'?" she asked snippily. "It's not as though we have viscounts in Ferelden," she pointed out.

"Very well then. I will admit that you have a valid point," Lady Elsa said. "You knew the families well enough that I thought you would have learned about the titles too. Your grasp of the Fereldan nobility should be much better, yes? How should you refer to a teyrn?"

"Um…your lordship?" Hawke guessed.

"No," the lady said flatly. "That might work for a bann or even an arl, but not for a teyrn." She stood up, her patience clearly at an end. "I hate to say this, but it seems that you do not even have a decent understanding of the basics. I am certain that you must have enjoyed your childhood. Nathaniel said that you were more or less allowed to run amuck with him and your other cousins. However the time has come for you to leave your childhood behind, Alfonsine, and prepare for the rest of your life. I could arrange for a marriage for you right now, given how lovely you are, but I'm afraid that at best, you would be mocked behind your back for your lack of manners and at worst, your husband would keep you confined so that you wouldn't be a black mark upon his family name."

Hawke wrinkled her nose. "I am not sure what my cousin told you but I assure you, my lady, I did not come here seeking a husband." She quickly glanced over at Fenris, who had curled his hands into fists at the mere mention of finding Hawke a husband amongst the nobles here. Though that glance was fleeting, it calmed Fenris down and allowed him to relax. Hawke was his, and at least his mageling knew it.

The old lady smiled kindly down at Hawke. "I am positive that you didn't. If I were you, I would prefer to marry a Fereldan lad and not have to leave my homeland. I will have to write to your mother and your aunt at a later date to see if that is possible," she said with a vague gesture of her hand. "Either way, I still intend to remedy your lack of an education befitting a young lady of your station and beauty. Let us go to the library."

The library wasn't too far from Lady Elsa's sitting room. Once they were there, the lady commanded Hawke to take a seat. Then she set about gathering several tomes and depositing each of them on the table before Hawke. "There," she said after she had placed all the books in front of the mageling. "That should be a good start for you to learn about the history of the noble families of both the Free Marches and Ferelden."

Hawke's eyes were wide as she looked at all the large tomes in front of her. "I…I love to read, my lady, but surely you can't expect me to read all of these in one day," she protested.

"I don't. I do expect you to make decent progress on getting through them though. Mark your place when you are finished tonight, and I shall quiz you tomorrow morning on what you have read." The lady aimed her next words at Fenris. "I am afraid that the rest of your afternoon may be a bit dull, watching over my charge as she reads. If it helps, you are welcome to partake in the knowledge gathered here as well. Now if you both will excuse me, I must be off. I will fetch you when it is time to get ready for dinner."

The lady's offer was generous as Fenris knew that there were not many nobles who would give a servant free rein in a library, especially one with as many books as this one. However while Fenris appreciated Lady Elsa's kindness, he couldn't exactly take advantage of it. He had not ever learned to read for slaves weren't taught to in Tevinter, and so books were useless to him. Instead Fenris settled back and watched as the mageling as she heaved a sigh and opened the first book in front of her.

He couldn't help but feel a little jealous that reading was as easy as breathing to Hawke. Though her background was poor, she had still learned to read. It was rather ironic that for the most part he was more at ease in the castle than she was. He had been subjected to the pomp and circumstance that tended to surrounded the nobility of all lands in his position as a bodyguard to one of the most ambitious magisters in Tevinter. Hawke, on the other hand, had grown up on a farm and it was beginning to show just how ill-suited she was to the soft living of the castle. Though Hawke obviously deserved someone who could give her a life of luxury, he rather thought that given her behavior of the last couple days that she wouldn't enjoy such a thing.

Fenris smiled at that thought. It made him feel warm to know that while she deserved a man who could give her so much more than him, she would be happier with a lot less. He didn't deserve her but at least she wanted him. That was something indeed.

As was his wont, Fenris took note of their surroundings while the mageling continued her studies. He ignored the occasional scoffing remark she would make under her breath in favor of mapping out the library. The library was large, and there were several rows of bookcases. Furthermore the library was spotted with nooks and crannies, perfect in case someone was seeking a bit of solitude for their reading. Not that anyone needed to look far for such solitude because no one was in the library except for them. Fenris wondered if the inhabitants of the castle usually avoided this room or if this was an uncommon occurrence.

A rather loud snort from Hawke directed his attention at his mageling once more. This time, however, his eyes lingered on her form. The dress she was wearing today clung to her, accenting just how delectable his Hawke was. Fenris' gaze circled around the library yet again. They were the only ones in the library, which made this the first time in what seemed like years that they were alone together. He didn't know when they would get another chance like this. The only question that remained was how best to take advantage of their solitude.

There was a certain charm to the notion of hoisting Hawke on to the table and taking her then and there. Certainly that would be the quickest way, and while there wouldn't be much time for exploration and foreplay the first time around, the way Fenris was feeling, seconds wouldn't be enough. However, the table Hawke was sitting at was in front of the door and so if anyone entered, that would completely ruin the mood. They would also possibly have to fight their way out of the castle, as someone might assume the worst and raise the hue and cry against him, but that was the least of his worries. Fenris was certain that they would be able to make good their escape; unfortunately he was just as certain that if they were interrupted, they would be too caught up with getting safely away to even think about doing anything else for quite some time.

His eyes cut back over at one particularly dark nook towards the back of the library. That looked to be the best bet when it came to a relatively safe place to shag Hawke. It was out of the way enough that they could hear anyone coming. He would have to get Hawke there—though the idea of carrying her over there like a sack of potatoes had its appeal—but on the plus side, luring Hawke away from her studies and into the corner could count as foreplay. Or at least he could assess whether Hawke wanted him as much as he wanted her, and from there decide whether any additional enticement was needed on his part. He was rather hoping not. Fenris felt as though he had been hard for his mageling for days, and he didn't know how much longer he could hold out.

"Fenris!" Hawke's whine distracted the elven warrior from his plans. "I'm bored," the mageling proclaimed. She let her book fall on to the table with a thump. "This might just be the dullest book in existence."

"Is that so?" The mageling's complaints were like music to Fenris' ears. Even if Hawke didn't have the same sort of naughty thoughts running through her head, at least she wouldn't need too much convincing to set her books aside in favor of more pleasurable activities.

"Yes. I know what you're thinking—that I can't possibly be able to make that assessment because I've not read every other book in existence. But I have read more than a few and they've all been better than this dry rot." She sighed. "Waste of paper, that's what this book is. Who cares about who's related to who in the Free Marches?"

"That may be a dry topic, but knowing about such connections can give insight into a particular political climate," Fenris said mildly. He inwardly smirked. He knew that his answer wouldn't satisfy Hawke, and if anything, would only increase her frustration with the whole thing.

"Oh? You mean if I keep on reading I'll eventually learn who has blood mages in their family? Because that would be dead useful when it comes to our current job," Hawke said through gritted teeth.

"Such dark secrets are rarely recorded. Families usually arrange to have them swept under the carpet," Fenris admitted.

"Yes. That's exactly why this is a waste of time!" Hawke hung her head. "Not that I'd ever convince Lady Elsa about that. Don't get me wrong, she does seem to be a nice lady and all, but her idea of being a proper lady seems to be too much like my mother's." The mageling shuddered.

"Really?" That surprised Fenris. Hawke had always described herself as a country girl and so it seemed out of place for her mother to know about noble ideals regarding maidens.

"Mother probably would love Lady Elsa for stuffing me not only into a gown but into that blasted corset. Mother is an Amell of Kirkwall, and so she grew up thinking that is the right way to dress a young lady. Thankfully she couldn't subject me to such things as then we would stick out in Lothering even more than we did already."

Fenris filed away the fact that Hawke's mother was of noble origin for later reference. He had a more pressing task at hand to deal with and preferably before he had to take himself in hand.

"But do you know what would make this book much more exciting?" Hawke asked, interrupting his thoughts once more. "If you would read it to me instead."

At those words, Fenris blanched. He immediately cast his plans aside. Hawke's notion was…impossible. He didn't want to tell her that it was such. He didn't want to tell her that he could not read. Just the thought of how she would look at him after that revelation—at best with pity and disappointment while at worst with complete revulsion—was enough to make him quaver. "Somehow I doubt that," Fenris said slowly. "You did call it the dullest book in the world. That makes me think that nothing could make it exciting for you."

"Well maybe not exciting. It would be interesting though to listen to the timbre of your voice." Hawke closed her eyes and sighed happily. "Have I ever mentioned how much I love it?"

The tips of his ears were burning, and he could feel a light blush settling on his cheeks. He coughed nervously once, then twice. "You might have mentioned that on occasion," he said.

"Evidently I should mention it more often. You're absolutely charming when you're embarrassed. That makes it so fun to pay you compliments."

"I'm not embarrassed," Fenris protested.

Hawke arched an eyebrow up at him, which somehow only made him want her more. That should have been impossible but there it was. Blast it all, it was hard not to toss caution to the winds and take her already. That was the problem with going so long without being able to have sex with Hawke. The longer he went without, the more he longed for her. Looking back, he really should have made it clear to their companion that he and Hawke needed their private time together. It would have been the practical thing to do. They had carefully planned every other aspect to their farce, and so he should have thought about including this aspect as well. If Fenris had, the he wouldn't be suffering from lack of Hawke the way he was at the moment. However thinking about what he should have done wouldn't change things. Instead it was better to concentrate on getting Hawke to the nook he had spotted—even if he did wind up carrying her like a sack of potatoes—and having his wicked way with her.

Just as Fenris took a step towards his Hawke, however, the door to the library swung open. "Ah there you are!" said the Howe, spotting them right away after entering the room. He didn't waste any time heading their way. "And look, you're even doing what you're supposed to be doing," he stated, addressing those words to Hawke. "Will wonders never cease?"

"Hearing you say that makes me want to read this even less. Congratulations. I didn't think it was possible for me to have less enthusiasm," Hawke told him, aspersion coloring her voice.

Meanwhile Fenris mentally cursed both himself for dawdling so long and the idiot archer for interfering yet again with the elf's plans. Fenris was beginning to suspect that such behavior was intentional on Nathaniel's part. Because the archer had been unlucky in love, he wanted to spread his misery around.

"I ran into Lady Elsa during archery practice." Nathaniel paused to reconsider his words. "Actually, that's not entirely accurate. In truth, she hunted me down to tell me the news of your progress."

Hawke brightened up at that comment. "My progress? Really? And here I thought she was far more likely to complain that there was none."

"No, instead she complained about how little progress she had made with you," the archer said dryly. Hawke crinkled up her nose and stuck her tongue out at him, but he ignored that gesture. "She thinks that you should have been sent away to her tender graces ages ago. She more or less accused my family of allowing you to run around like a little hooligan." He shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't think it was wise to deny anything because I didn't know what you might have told her of your life in Ferelden. So I just smiled and nodded my head, and when I could get a word in edgewise, I asked what her plans were for you."

"I would hope that she is thinking of giving up and sending me back to Ferelden, but that stupid grin on your face tells me otherwise."

"If you keep speaking like that, I might start to believe that I'm not your favorite cousin any more," was Nathaniel's response. His grin only grew larger at Hawke's evident misery. "And no, she's not giving up on you. In fact, she is even more determined to do right by you because you have been let down by so many others in your life."

"Oh joy." If looks could kill, the glare Hawke was directing at the archer would have been the end of him. That would have been fine by Fenris as he was quickly losing patience with the man. The warrior shifted back and forth on his feet uncomfortably. He really wished that the Howe would get to his blighted point and then leave them alone before another interruption came along.

"Needless to say, she believes it is best to go back to the basics for you. She plans to encourage you to study by letting you know that she plans to formally present you at court after you have shown sufficient improvement." The archer positively bounced up and down, looking merrier than Fenris had ever seen him. "Which is great for our plans since that would include a formal introduction to the margrave."

"Which I think is wholly unnecessary. I watched him closely at dinner last night, and he seems to be a man in complete control of his faculties," Hawke told Nathaniel flatly. "I doubt that my meeting him face-to-face will change that assessment."

"But it is possible," Nathaniel pressed her.

"I wouldn't rule that out, but it is highly unlikely." Hawke sighed and bit her lip. "I guess it shouldn't surprise me thought that you're not willing to listen to reason however."

The archer shook his head. "Far from it. I am willing to admit that you as well as Fenris have more expertise than I in such matters. Fortunately for us, there is another benefit to Lady Elsa's decision to take your education in hand, and that is the fact that there is only one other maiden receiving such personalized attention from her. That is her granddaughter, of course, who is also the margrave's daughter," Nathaniel explained. "If blood magic is not the reason behind the margrave's surprising support of Carrow and his crew, perhaps his daughter can provide some illumination on that subject."

"If nothing else, at least she can suffer with me," Hawke mumbled.

"I doubt she will suffer as much as you," Nathaniel blithely told her. "Lady Eleanor has been trained in all the social graces by both her mother and grandmother ever since she could walk. If anything, Lady Elsa is most likely hoping that she will be a good influence on you."

"Lovely. That makes me feel so much better," the mageling remarked. She looked over at Fenris mournfully, a brief flash of longing hovering over her features. "I hope that is all the good news you have to share with us because the Maker knows I can't take any more."

"That's it."

"Good. Consider yourself dismissed then," Hawke said haughtily, waving a hand in his general direction.

That did little to dampen the archer's good mood. He sketched a jaunty bow in Hawke's direction and then turned around to exit the library. Fenris was relieved to see the last of him, hoping that he would finally be able to get a bit of relief once he was alone with Hawke again, but his hopes were soon crushed. On Nathaniel's heels was no other than Lady Elsa, coming to check on Hawke's progress before insisting that the mageling return to her room in order to could get ready for dinner.

Hawke immediately leapt up from her seat and handed the book she had been reading over to the old lady. The mageling then proceeded to stand next to Fenris while Lady Elsa made careful note of how far the mageling had read. While the lady was thus occupied, Hawke brushed her fingers against Fenris' hand. He almost started at the fleeting sensation of her skin pressed against his. Her touch was gone too soon as a folded piece of paper dropped into his hands. Fenris carefully tucked the piece of paper away while holding back a sigh. Hawke's touch had done little to alleviate the tension he felt; if anything, her touch had only increased it.

There were times, Fenris reflected, that it seemed as though the whole world was against him.

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> Thanks for reading! I hope you liked this chapter. As for everyone who has been leaving reviews-you all are the best. :D Seriously. Hearing (or rather reading, I guess) that people like reading this fic makes my day.


	41. Chapter 38

**Promises: Chapter Thirty-Eight  
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Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

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><p>Lady Elsa was quick to shoo Fenris away after he escorted the lady and Hawke back to the mageling's bedroom. He obeyed that order readily enough. Staying to watch wasn't an option given that they were now amongst noble society, and what was more, having to watch Hawke strip without being able to touch her or taste her would be akin to torture at the moment.<p>

As he entered his bedroom, he spied a fresh set of clothing laid out on his bed. He checked the closet and found a few more outfits hanging within. The message being conveyed was clear. Armor was not suitable attire in the castle, especially not for formal events such as dinner. While he was tempted to disobey and ignore the clothing, he knew that the best course of action was to comply. If he tried to argue the point, he could only lose given his status as a mere bodyguard.

With a grimace, Fenris carefully placed his sword at the foot of the bed before tossing the slip of paper that Hawke had given him on to a nearby table. He shucked off his armor and put it to one side of the room, noting absently that it needed mending in addition to cleaning. There was no bath waiting for him tonight so it took a matter of minutes for him to get changed. He put on first the soft trousers and then the long tunic that had been left for him. Though old, the clothes were finer than any he had ever had before. Their colors also were reminiscent of his armor as they were a dark brown that was practically black. Though the clothing was nice, Fenris much preferred his armor. Not only was it more practical in a fight, his armor also did not rub against his lyrium brands the way these clothes did.

Maybe he should have encouraged Hawke and her outrageous attempt to have him suffer through a fitting like hers. Then he might have had a chance to get the clothing more tailored to his frame. Fenris mentally shrugged his shoulders. He would just have to see how tonight went. If it was too unbearable, he could always seek out the services of a seamstress. He did need to go to the alienage eventually to seek out leads as to Carrow's criminal contacts, and that could be the perfect excuse to visit there initially. A human tailor or seamstress was unlikely to take on an elven client after all.

Once he was dressed, Fenris wandered over to the table where he had left Hawke's note. He opened it curiously so that he could study it. There were a few lines scrawled across it. It was frustrating, not being able to understand what was written there. Maybe she was scolding him for not coming to her rescue. Maybe she was telling him that she missed being with him. He simply did not know. For that matter, Hawke could have written both those items down along with others. Though most of the page was blank, perhaps only a few lines were needed to convey multiple sentiments. He had never hated being unable to read as much as he did now when it kept him from understanding Hawke's thoughts.

A knock on the door was the only warning he had that he was about to have company. Out of reflex, Fenris snatched the note up to hide under the pillow. He wouldn't put it past Hawke to have written down something steamy, and he did not want to have to explain such an occurrence away. Fortunately not only was he able to hide the note in time, but the person entering his room was only Nathaniel.

The archer walked in, projecting confidence with every step. He surveyed Fenris from head to toe. "Good," he said. "I'm glad that I won't have the same sort of trouble getting you into proper clothing that Lady Elsa is having with my cousin."

"It seems to me that the mere idea of Hawke being unhappy makes you jubilant," Fenris remarked.

"I would not go that far. I would rather that dearest Alfonsine understand that it is really high time for her to become a lady and be introduced formally at court," was the archer's ready reply. "It would make things much easier, don't you think?"

Nathaniel went on without waiting for Fenris' response. "Alas such things are not to be. But that's not why I'm here. Since you are already ready to go, I suppose I should warn you what will occur tonight."

That did not sound good. "Are you expecting trouble?" Fenris asked.

"Of a sort. While Lady Elsa has told me that Alfonsine isn't fit to be presented to any of the notables dining at the high table, she still believes it would be good for her education to meet anyone requests a formal introduction. It will give Alfonsine a chance to proper her manners," Nathaniel explained.

"I see." That he did. In his mind's eye, Fenris could picture his mageling surrounded by slavering squires, all clamoring for her attention. Suddenly he wished that he hadn't acquiesced so readily to the demand he leave his armor behind tonight because it might indeed come in handy.

"I am sure you do. In my opinion, not all the other men here are worthy of meeting my cousin…particularly since there are a few who get too familiar right away."

"Ah. Shall I remove the hand of any groper?"

Nathaniel gave him a look. "If that's your idea of a joke, then I think that your sense of humor needs work."

"I wasn't joking." Fenris allowed himself a vicious grin.

"And that was what I was afraid of." The archer covered his face with one hand, somehow managing to look put upon. Fenris did not feel sorry for the man, not with the way Nathaniel always seemed to interrupt him when he was alone with Hawke.

Nathaniel shook his head before continuing with his train of thought. "I think it's best that I am perfectly clear about what's acceptable and what's not acceptable. Lopping off someone's hand for simply touching my cousin definitely falls into the not acceptable category."

"I said grope. That implies more than just a casual touch," Fenris pointed out.

"Something tells me that your definition of groping is different than mine when it comes to Hawke," the archer muttered. "How about I put it this way? Unless my dear cousin's life is in imminent danger, you should avoid bloodshed of any sort."

Fenris snorted. He could continue this conversation and argue for a flexible interpretation of what it meant for Hawke's life to be in imminent danger, but that would be pointless. Ultimately the only thing that would make him feel better was to finish this stupid job and leave the blasted castle behind. He hated to admit it, but Hawke had been right to look upon Nathaniel's offer of employment with suspicion. One hundred sovereigns wasn't worth the constant interruptions he had been suffering from as of late.

"Now that we have that settled, let us check to see how the ladies are coming along with their preparations," said Nathaniel.

The elf's eyebrows both shot straight up. "You think they're done already?" he asked.

"No, not really, especially not if Alfonsine is feeling bothersome," Nathaniel said, a fierce grin appearing on his face when he mentioned the name he had saddled Hawke with again. Fenris reflected the archer seemed to be particularly pleased with the one victory he could claim over the mageling.

"However, after years of experience of waiting for my mother and my sister to finish getting ready for dinner," the archer went on, "I have learned that is best to start sooner rather than later when it comes to pressing the ladies to hurry up. If we don't start bothering them now, I doubt that we will ever make it to dinner."

"Somehow I cannot see Lady Elsa allowing that to happen," Fenris pointed out. "She seems remarkably efficient."

"Fine. I was exaggerating a bit there, but I would rather not have to sit around here with you waiting for them any longer than I have to. You seem to be even grumpier than usual."

"I can't imagine why you might think that," Fenris muttered under his breath. His comment was ignored by Nathaniel, who instead strolled out of the room and started knocking at Hawke's door. Fenris followed his lead and arrived in time to hear one of the maids tell the archer that they still needed more time to get Hawke presentable for dinner.

Ultimately they wound up lounging outside of Hawke's room for just under half an hour before the door swung open. A pair of maids scurried out first, and one of them informed the two men that they could enter. Fenris waited for Nathaniel to go in to the room, like any good bodyguard would, and followed close upon the archer's heels. He instinctively sought out Hawke, but when he laid eyes on her, he almost forgot to breathe.

It was astounding what a difference clothes made. Hawke was lovely enough in her plain robes, and she had always managed to turn heads wherever they went. However now that the mageling was decked out in a fine gown, with her hair artfully arranged and light make-up on her face, she was simply a vision. Fenris gulped nervously. He could tell that it was going to be a hard night. He looked quickly away from Hawke before temptation became too strong and he gave into his baser urges.

"I think your mother would cry right now," Nathaniel said, cooling apprising Hawke, "to see you looking so much like a lady."

"For once, you're right," Hawke replied, sniffing haughtily and tossing her head. "Though that hardly qualifies as a compliment. I thought you came to the Free Marches to acquire a bit of polish. You will never keep a lady happy with an attitude like yours."

Fenris inwardly winced. Hawke had hit Nathaniel at his sore point, for by now it had become clear to them both that the man recently had suffered a setback in the romance department. Despite Nathaniel's aggravating tendency to interrupt them at the worst moments, Fenris still felt a pang of sympathy for the man. Though he had only known Hawke for a few months, already he couldn't imagine his life without her. He couldn't imagine how Nathaniel must feel given as from what Fenris had gathered, the archer had been sweet on the lady who had left him for years.

The elf had little time to sympathize with Nathaniel, however, for Hawke turned her attention to him. "Well since my cousin is incapable of putting together a decent compliment, it seems as though I will have to turn to my bodyguard," she announced to the room at large. Fenris felt rather than saw both Lady Elsa and Nathaniel roll their eyes as Hawke said that. The mageling dipped into a curtsey, with a grace that she didn't have the day before, and gave the poor elf an eyeful when it came to a pair of her loveliest assets. "Well what do you think?" Hawke asked him directly.

What Fenris thought was that he wanted to ravish her on the spot, but he couldn't very well say that. He coughed once, buying time with the hope that someone would intervene and save him, but he had no luck. Finally he settled on saying, "I think that the lady will have no shortage of compliments tonight."

Evidently that was the right note to strike for Hawke beamed up at him with one of the brightest smiles he had seen from her in a long time. "Thank you, Fenris," she told him, a light blush dusting her cheeks.

"I suppose I should be grateful that you at least know how to respond to a compliment," Lady Elsa put in, "although I see that I must remind you again that a true lady does not fish for them."

Hawke shrugged her shoulders. "Understood. Have no fear, Lady Elsa. I won't trouble anyone else with similar questions tonight." Hawke's eyes cut briefly over to Fenris, silently telling him that his good opinion was the only one she wanted. The sentiment in that fleeting glance reassured him and gave him the strength he needed to persevere that evening.

While dinner had been mercifully short the night before, tonight it dragged on and on. Fenris laid the blame solely on the introductions. As soon as they arrived, they were beset by greeters. Gossip spread very quickly throughout the castle, and it seemed as though everyone had learned that Nathaniel's lovely little cousin was very much available.

Thankfully the first wave consisted mostly of Nathaniel's friends amongst the squires. There was a bit of jostling as all the young men insisted on personally being introduced to Hawke. Fenris was tempted more than once to intervene when a squire let his eyes linger too long on any of Hawke's assets, but he managed to refrain from doing so. Knowing that Hawke didn't want any of these young popinjays helped rein in his battle instincts.

Nathaniel's friends lingered around them even after the introductions were finished. It didn't take long for Fenris to suss out the reason for such behavior. The other squires had basically formed an impenetrable ring around them. No one else could get through, and those that tried were soundly ignored by the boisterous lot. The behavior continued on when they went to the dinner table. Hawke was seated firmly between Fenris and Nathaniel while the other squires took up residence in the remaining nearby seats.

Unfortunately the event that was that night's dinner did not stop at the meal. After everyone had eaten, there was another round of impromptu socializing. This time, however, Nathaniel's friends couldn't prevent other men from seeking out an introduction to Hawke, not when Lady Elsa herself led the charge. The lady dropped by with a Lord Raven—who to Fenris' eye appeared old enough to be Hawke's father—in her wake. The mageling was less than enthusiastic to meet the old man. As she dropped into a maidenly curtsey, the lady took the time to have a few words with Nathaniel. Fenris winced as he caught wind of them. The lady was none too pleased at Nathaniel's attempts to insulate the mageling from the rest of the court.

"I am afraid we have our marching orders," Nathaniel noted as an aside to Fenris as Lady Elsa departed, dragging the older man along with her. "She noted that unless I want my cousin to wind up with a man old enough to be her father, that I had better stop interfering with her plans to find Alfonsine a good match."

Fenris winced. "I don't suppose you mentioned that the lady's charge does not wish for any matchmaking," he asked.

"Didn't see the point of saying as much. That would have only earned me another lecture, and you know it." Nathaniel gave Fenris a sharp glance. "Not that you have anything to worry about," he added in a much lower voice.

Fenris inclined his head briefly, the only indication he gave that he understood what the archer was referring to. Hawke was his, and none of the men here would take his mageling away from him. That fact alone made the evening bearable.

Lady Elsa's point made, many of Nathaniel's friends drifted away, allowing others to greet the trio. More than one lady stopped by, some of them mentioning sons while still others spoke to Nathaniel about their daughters. Noble life here in the Free Marches had a remarkable resemblance to that in Tevinter. Fenris remembered many an evening spent at a gala or a ball where magisters would congregate and seek out strong alliances through marriage. However, in Tevinter, one of the things a magister looked for in a bride was strong magical ability in addition to beauty. If Hawke had grown up in Minrathous, her family would have had no trouble finding her a match, not with her looks and magical aptitude.

Of course, that would be assuming that her family was willing to overlook the use of blood magic. From Hawke's descriptions of her father, Fenris thought that the man would not. From his knowledge of Hawke, Fenris knew that she despised blood magic and so would never accept being tied to one. That was probably why it was so easy for him to trust his Hawke so whole-heartedly.

A hiss of indrawn breath accompanied by the slight snap of a spine straightening up from Nathaniel brought Fenris out of his thoughts and back into the present. He followed the direction of the archer's gaze and saw that a tall, blond man was now bowing ever so gracefully over Hawke's hand. Nathaniel's reaction was more than enough to tell that the blond man was none other than the squire who had arranged for his kidnapping, Ian Carrow.

Fenris regarded the blond squire with a critical eye. The other squire carried himself with confidence, holding his head up high. Though his face was boyish, there was something hard about the man. This was no awkward boy sent to the court at Ansburg for some polish and an introduction to polite society. No, Fenris' instincts screamed at him that the other squire was not what he appeared to be. Something told him that Carrow was not new to the criminal underground and so his ties to it would be deep indeed. The archer was very lucky to have stumbled across them as allies, the elf reflected, because otherwise he undoubtedly would have been out of his league.

"I must say there is hardly any resemblance between you and Howe here," Carrow said cheerfully enough. "Perhaps this is somewhat forward of me, but I must confess that I prefer your nose to his."

Hawke tilted her head to one side and smiled charmingly up at Carrow. "I would agree with you and maybe even remark how I thank the Maker each day that I wasn't afflicted with the Howe nose, but that would be rude and unfitting of a lady." Hawke heaved a long sigh. "It adds character to my cousin's face, and that counts for something I guess," she went on in a light tone. "Though the fact that my cousin is a man of good character and honor more than makes up for his nose, don't you think?"

Though Hawke's tone remained light, her words were pointed. It was clear that the mageling had also picked up on the warning signs from the archer. Fenris was grateful for that, seeing how the other man hadn't even bothered to give his name yet. It was most likely a plot to catch Hawke, in her role as Nathaniel's innocent cousin, at unawares and therefore pry information out of her.

"I see that you are as feisty as you are beautiful," Carrow returned evenly. There was a wicked gleam in his eyes that Fenris did not appreciate. "Some may be taken aback, but I think that only adds to your charm. I suppose it's no surprise that Howe's cousin the sort of girl who needs to be tamed, who needs to be broken in," he added, allowing his gaze to trail up and down Hawke's body as a smirk twisted his lips.

The look the blasted man was giving Hawke was enough to make Fenris long to take action. It was positively indecent, to say the least, and he found himself taking a step forward without even thinking about the consequences of his actions. Nathaniel, however, acted quickly to intercede before Fenris and thus saved their charade.

"I see that you are as ill-mannered as ever, not that I ever expected otherwise from you. You are lucky that we are not in Ferelden for every man in my family would take issue with how forward you have been," the archer said sharply. He turned to Hawke. "Let us go, cousin. There is no one here worthy of your attention."

Nathaniel offered Hawke his arm, which she gracefully accepted. Before they could get away from the blighted squire, however, Carrow stepped forward again. "My apologies. I didn't mean to insult you," he said charmingly enough, directing his words towards Hawke. He sketched a bow before the mageling while conveniently blocking their escape route. "I should have given my name before all else. Let me rectify my error now. I am Ian Carrow, a squire who serves alongside your cousin."

Hawke snorted in disbelief at Carrow's false modesty. She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by Nathaniel jerking her arm and pulling her behind him. Carrow raised an eyebrow at the archer's actions. "Over-protective much?" he asked mildly.

Nathaniel didn't deign to answer that remark and instead glared coldly at the other man. "We will take our leave of you now," the archer said shortly.

"So soon? That is such a pity. Well I do look forward to seeing more of you, Alfonsine Howe," Carrow replied smoothly, utterly unaffected by the death glares being shot his way by both Nathaniel and Fenris. He then stepped aside, allowing the three of them to make their escape. The way that Carrow's eyes lingered on Hawke, paying special attention to the sway of her hips, as they departed made Fenris long to rip them out of the man's head. That would cure Carrow's staring problem when it came to Hawke. It would also put an end to whatever schemes the man had in place against Nathaniel, and so they would be able to put this blasted castle behind them sooner rather than later.

Unfortunately Fenris couldn't see Nathaniel seeing things that way. That was a pity. In the short time he had been in the other squire's presence, it had become clear to Fenris that Carrow was a force to be reckoned with. Perhaps he was jaded from the years he had spent as a magister's bodyguard, but Fenris was of the opinion that the only good enemy was a dead one. He would have to speak to the archer later and see if he could talk some sense into the man. Revenge was all well and good, but not when it put the lives of you and your allies at risk. They were times when a more practical approach was warranted, and Fenris felt that this was one of them.

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><p><strong>Author's note: <strong>This update is a little overdue, but I hoped you liked it all the same. Hopefully I'll have a little something extra the next time I update. Anyway thanks for reading!


	42. Side Story E

**Promises: Side Story E  
><strong>

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

Author's note: This is the another alternate POV, but this is the first chapter from Hawke's perspective. I was asked about what Hawke was thinking when she first met Fenris, and so I thought I'd go ahead and sketch out the scene from her eyes.

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><p>Counting mabari was so much better than counting sheep. While sheep were fluffy and cute, they weren't that much use when demons came calling. Mabari, on the other hand, could be sent off after any pesky demon to chase them away. Hawke mentally grinned as a particularly persistent desire demon was sent fleeing with several large mabari close on its heels.<p>

She checked a sigh as she realized that she had completely lost count of how many mabari were crossing the field. That meant she had to start all over again in her quest to find some sleep before they started moving again. It was worrisome how demons had begun to make her offers more frequently the more the slave hunters brought her closer to Tevinter. She would have thought that the demons would known better by now; she wasn't about to accept any of their offers. Yes, she wanted her freedom but not at any price.

Hawke settled back against the rocks as best she could, trying to find a position that was more conducive to sleep. She knew that her reprieve wouldn't last much longer. The slave hunters never stayed anywhere long. Already they had lingered here more than she thought they would have; she could feel her magic returning to her in wisps. She currently only had enough for one spell though, maybe two if she was lucky. She needed more magic to even think about trying to escape, but unfortunately that blighted templar turned slaver would undoubtedly be back soon enough to drain her mana once again.

Her father had been right when he had warned both her and Bethany that templars were to be feared. Malcolm Hawke had mentioned that not all templars were bad, but in order to successfully stay free from the circle, apostates had to assume that each and every templar would turn them in. Of course, Hawke would rather that this particular templar have turned her over to a circle for even that was better than the fate that awaited her in Tevinter. She had no illusions; she knew perfectly well that the slavers would sell her to the highest bidder in Minrathous. Given how excited they were to find her—a powerful mage who was, as one of them put it, untouched—they were expecting her to fetch a high price indeed.

The clang of metal striking metal reached her ears. Hawke perked up, hoping against hope that maybe it was someone here to help her. Maybe her father had finally tracked her down and was here with his old mercenary friends to free her. She knew that was unlikely, and the most logical explanation was that the slavers had run into another band who was trying to strip them of their goods, namely her. Still a girl could dream.

The sounds of battle crept closer to her. Though Hawke could not make out individual voices, she could hear quite clearly that everyone was shouting in Arcanum. Which meant that this wasn't some rescue attempt by her father. Her shoulders slumped down in disappointment. It didn't really matter to her which band of slavers won; her fate would be the same either way.

The battle had just about reached her now because she heard her guards taking up their arms and charging away from her. She briefly pondered using her magic to break loose of her bonds and then using the ongoing battle as a cover for her escape. It wasn't much of a plan, but Hawke didn't know when she would get another chance to escape much less a better one. However before she could summon her magic to burn through the ropes tying her up, the death cries of two of her guards resounded in the cavern, followed by the sound of a sword whistling through the air and severing flesh. The victor stalked towards her, and it took all of her willpower not to curse. Evidently she had just missed her opportunity to flee.

Hawke shivered as she sat there on the ground, waiting for her new captor to arrive. She couldn't help but wonder how cruel this one would be. The group of slave hunters who had caught her hadn't treated her too badly. She got meals regularly and none of them ever laid hands on her. While she hadn't cared before who won the battle, she was gripped by a sudden panic that maybe she should have, that maybe this new group of slave hunters would be worse. Hawke couldn't help but flinch at that awful thought.

"Hold still. I'm here to help," a silken baritone sounded from above her before a pair of hands began working on undoing the knots that held her. Hawke stifled a gasp as shivers ran down her spine once again, but this time of the good variety. Whoever it was who was unbinding her had one of the loveliest voices she had ever heard, even better than Ser Bryant. Not that she really ever got to hear Ser Bryant speak much, seeing how she was an apostate while he was a templar and so seeking him out just to hear him talk would have been a stupid move on her part but that was neither here nor there.

Her blindfold tumbled from her eyes. Hawke blinked rapidly, needing to readjust to the light before turning to view who had saved her. This time she did gasp as she took in the most handsome elf that she had ever seen. Not that there were many elves in Lothering and all, but still Hawke felt that it would be hard to find someone more stunning than the elf before her, with his deep olive eyes and startling white hair atop a face that was nigh perfect. This had to be a dream. Maidens were only rescued by handsome knights in tales, and what was more, the maiden in a tale was never an apostate. Though she didn't want this particular dream to end, Hawke discreetly pinched herself. To her delight, the elf remained before her, staring at her intently with those lovely eyes of his.

Hawke continued to gawk at her rescuer, finding herself at a loss for words for once. Thank you was a rather obvious response as well as one that he had earned for he had freed her, but that seemed inadequate. No, she wanted to say something to convince him that he needed her and her magical skills along to help him on whatever journey or quest he was undertaking. Given that he had found her all tied up amongst a band of slavers, it would be natural for her to doubt her abilities and so she would have to choose her words wisely to convince him otherwise.

That was when she realized that someone was talking and that someone was her. She bit her lip when she was finished, mentally cursing her blighted habit of babbling when she was nervous. She had no idea what she had said to the elf, but from the set of his jaw, she was afraid that she had somehow managed to insult him. That would be just her luck.

"I imagine you would have already been further on your way to slave auctions of Minrathous, where you would have been sold to the highest bidder," he told her in a clipped tone.

Hawke winced at those words. "I guess that's true though I was trying not to think of it," she said. Then she paused. She was supposed to think before speaking but here she was again, running off at the mouth. She had the sinking feeling that she was not making a good impression. It was just her luck to be suffering from verbal diarrhea when meeting the man of her dreams. The fact that he had just rescued her from the slavers only made it worse. "Of course I was thinking that my father would….but no," she murmured to herself.

A loud sigh drew her attention back to the elf. "I do not recommend lingering here. Who knows when reinforcements may arrive?" he said sharply.

"Oh! Of course!" That was a very good point. No wonder why the elf had seemed so impatient. At least it seemed as though he had no intentions of leaving her behind, which was good. However she didn't want to risk him changing his mind and so she hurried to get up. Or rather she tried to hurry, but unfortunately one of her legs had fallen asleep. She gingerly got to her feet, wincing as the blood started flowing freely to her legs again. The elf followed suit but then practically fell back down as he clutched at his right leg.

"You're hurt!" Hawke exclaimed, rushing over to the elf's side. She mentally berated herself for not noticing that earlier. She should have offered to heal him right away, but the only thing she could do now was to make amends. She called her magic to her, filling her hands with a soft blue light, and leaned towards the elf. "Here let me—"

Before she could finish her sentence, much less actually heal the elf, he was all but leaping away from her, with something akin to fear in his eyes. Needless to say, the elf wasn't happy to find out that Hawke was a mage. Hawke could understand his reluctance, as mages could be dangerous unless they had control, but she was a very good mage. She would never give in to a demon's temptation. She would rather die first. The Maker knew she would rather be a slave first. Hawke told the elf as much, and that gave him pause. He tilted his head to one side and looked at her through veiled eyes. She took the chance to admire how long his lashes were, before her more practical side took over.

"Stop being so stubborn," Hawke told the elf, her tone one of command. "You were the one who pointed out that we need to get out of here before reinforcements arrive. We'll be able to get away much faster if you'll just let me heal you."

That was the wrong thing to say. The elf jerked away from her violently, growling through his teeth about how there was no we. Hawke was left to stare after him as he stalked away from her—well stalked as best he could on his injured leg.

Tears welled in her eyes. She was alone once more. It was a terrible thing to be a mage and to be alone. Demons always seemed to come calling then. Hawke shook her head to clear it of gloomy thoughts. The elf wouldn't be able to get far, not on that leg. She gingerly rose to her feet once more. She would follow him and once he stopped, she would insist that he allow her to heal his leg. After all, that was the least she could do after he had saved her from the slavers.

And after that was done—well there was a reason why her family was fond of staying her middle name was stubborn. If Hawke had anything to say about the matter, he would be stuck with her for quite some time to come.


	43. Chapter 39

**Promises: Chapter Thirty-Nine  
><strong>

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

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><p>Sleep was not something to be had that evening for Fenris. He tried valiantly to fall asleep, nestling under the covers of the too-soft bed and closing his eyes tightly shut. None of that worked, however, as he was still too tightly wound up from the events of dinner to fall asleep.<p>

Two things had been made apparent from dinner that evening. The first was that it was going to be very difficult indeed for Fenris to live in castle with the way that other men fawned over Hawke. It had taken all of his self-control not to intervene and make it clear just who Hawke belonged to tonight.

The second thing that he had learned was that Nathaniel Howe's enemy was a dangerous one indeed. Ian Carrow carried himself like a man who was used to dealing death. Fenris was willing to bet that the erstwhile noble had a shady past with connections to the underground that were deeper than even Nathaniel imagined. In fact, Fenris wasn't entirely certain that Carrow was a noble at all. Though the other squire had all the arrogance of a noble, he also seemed to be too hard to be just another lad used to the soft life of the nobility. Fenris was willing to bet that Carrow had spent some time growing up on the streets. Maybe the other squire even spent some time as a thief; that would certainly explain his connections to Ansburg's thieves' guild.

His lips curled back as it occurred to him how badly he had underestimated the task before them. When he had originally agreed to help Nathaniel in his quest for revenge, Fenris had thought that it had to be easier than their last big job. He had figured that finding evidence within a single city of one man's duplicity had to simpler than tracking back and forth across Antiva searching for its most infamous slave hunter. The elf had thought that this job was bound to be a lot less frustrating, and what was more, the accommodations would be better too.

However the reality was that this had to be the single most frustrating day that Fenris had faced in a very long time, and every single bit of his frustration seemed to be centered around Hawke. First there was the fact that he had been utterly unable to secure any time alone with his mageling. After being accustomed to having her to himself for days on end, Fenris was ill-equipped to deal with their sudden separation. He knew that his mageling was only one room over from him, but the social constraints of life in the castle made it feel as though Hawke was miles away.

Dinner didn't help matters either. Having to hang back and watch as man after man sought out Hawke's attention was akin to torture. Fenris had always known how desirable Hawke was; even old robes couldn't disguise the fact that she was beautiful. He didn't like being reminded, however, about how easy it would be for his mageling to find someone else. Even her status as an apostate wouldn't be that much of a barrier, not if the man in question was infatuated with her. Fenris trusted Hawke with his life, and he knew that she hadn't been tempted by anyone she met. That didn't make it any easier though to watch other men seek pursue her.

Then at the very end of their first full day in Ansburg, Fenris found out that Carrow, Nathaniel's nemesis, would be no easy mark. The elf wasn't entirely sure if they were up to the job, but in any event, he knew that it would likely take them weeks—if not months—to get Nathaniel the information he needed for his revenge. Needless to say, Fenris was not looking forward to spending so much time in the castle for all of its inhabitants seemed determined to keep him away from Hawke.

The elf scowled as Hawke's note came into his line of sight. That was yet another source of frustration for him. Clearly there was a reason why Hawke wanted him to have that scrap of paper for otherwise she wouldn't have bothered to risk giving it to him. However it was impossible for him to decipher her message, being illiterate as he was. He gulped nervously. Fenris hoped that Hawke wasn't thinking that they would be able to communicate freely with one another by passing notes. If so, then he was in trouble indeed.

A loud thump echoed throughout the room, startling Fenris as he stared at Hawke's note. The thump was followed by another, both of which came from his window. Fenris bit back a curse. He didn't know who was at his window trying to get in, but he didn't think that they were the friendly sort.

Fenris left his sword behind in favor of his belt dagger. He stalked across the room and to the window, intent on throwing it open to startle the would-be intruder. Before he could throw the latch though, he caught sight of a pair of bright blue eyes peering through the window and into his room. This time Fenris didn't hold back his curse. His mageling was clinging to the edge of the window sill outside, and only the Maker knew how she got there.

"Hawke!" Fenris cried as he scrambled to unhook the latch. He motioned for Hawke to step back before he opened the window and then reached out a shaky hand to her to help her in. She hopped inside, looking none the worse for wear. If anything, Fenris was worse off than her, with his heart still racing from the rush of fear of seeing her out there on the ledge.

"Thank you," Hawke told him after taking a minute to straighten her robes. "For a moment there, I thought you weren't going to let me in. I would have felt awfully stupid having to go back to my room after spending so much time plotting how to get from there to here."

Fenris fixed his most stern gaze upon the mageling. "That was not your best idea," he told her firmly. "Do you have any concept of how high up we are? How did you get to my window from yours in the first place?"

"I jumped," was her reply. His shock must have shown on his face because Hawke rushed to reassure him. "Oh don't worry. I was never at any risk. Zev taught me a little bit about scaling walls and the like; he said that it never hurt to be prepared to make a quick exit. Not that I'm as good as him, but I'm able to use magic while he's not. One of the books I bought in Wycombe was about force magic, and I've been practicing ever since. There's this one spell where…well never mind about the technical details. Let's just say that if I had missed my jump, I would have been able to stop my fall by using it."

"And what would you do if someone saw you use magic?" Fenris asked. "For that matter, what will we do if anyone saw you going from your room to mine?"

"No one's going to catch me, Fenris. For one, we are awfully high up and so it's hard to see the windows from the ground." Hawke frowned at him. "Between your scolding and the fact that you didn't leave the window open like I asked you, I'm beginning to think that you don't want me here."

So that was what her note had been about. That made sense, seeing how it would have been safer for Hawke to make the journey between windows if his had been open. Not that he would consider such a trip safe under any circumstances, given how high up they were, so perhaps it would be more accurate to say that it would have been less dangerous if he had left his window open for Hawke.

He didn't have time to continue that line of thought though because Hawke was looking most put out with him. She had crossed her arms and was tapping her toe and giving him a glare that made it clear that she was not happy. "Well?" she asked, her mouth pulled down into a grimace. "Do you not want me to be here?"

"Yes…I mean no…I mean…." Fenris bit back a growl of frustration. Trust his Hawke to unleash such a complicated turn of phrase on him. "I want you here, I want you with me, always," he told her firmly.

She sniffed at his reassurance. "Is that so? Well, you've been less than welcoming."

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I was just…surprised, you could say, to find you outside my window like that." He mentally added that Hawke had nearly scared him to death showing up like that, and Fenris was never at his best when he was frightened.

"But didn't you read my note?" Hawke's lower lip trembled as she gestured to where Fenris had left it out in the open.

"I…I hadn't had the chance to read it yet," he replied. That excuse sounded lame to his ears although he could argue that technically it was true. He hadn't had a chance to read Hawke's note to him because he had never gotten the chance to learn how to read.

"You didn't have the chance to read it?" Hawke repeated, her voice disbelieving. "But I gave it to you this afternoon, and what's more, it's been a couple hours since dinner. You should have had plenty of time to…." She trailed off, not finishing that sentence. The mageling looked down and away from Fenris.

"You're not telling me the truth, are you?" the mageling said in a small voice. "You're hiding something from me. But I've noticed how the last couple of days how distant you've been. You never take the chance to be close to me anymore…just like you didn't take the chance evidently to read what I had written to you." Hawke let loose a loud sigh. "I tried to convince myself that I was just imagining things but I guess this seals it, doesn't it? Something's changed. Something has made you not want me any more."

"What? No!" Fenris was aghast at her words. How could Hawke possibly think that he didn't want her when it seemed that increasingly all he could think of was her?

Hawke shook her head sadly. "You say the right things, but your actions speak louder than any words. Please, Fenris. I don't know what I did wrong or how I can make things better, but you've got to let me know. Because I—"

"No," Fenris repeated fervently. "You've done nothing wrong, Hawke."

"Is that so? Then why is it that you can't stand to be around me?"

"No. Nothing could be farther than the truth. I don't know how you got that idea, Hawke, not when the opposite's true that I…I can't stand to be parted from you." The words flowed out of him in a great rush as he hastened to correct Hawke's misperception.

However the mageling was not convinced. "If that's the case, then why weren't you ready for me to come over here? That's why I gave you the note so you could be prepared."

"I didn't have a chance to read it. I told you that already," he said rather loudly, his agitation causing his tone to sharpen. He didn't know why Hawke was being so difficult. He hadn't been able to read her note and that explained why his window had been closed. If he had known that she was planning to come over, then he most certainly would have prepared for her visit. Of course, given her chosen path to his room, he probably would have elected to go over to her room before she attempted the crossing between their windows.

"You keep saying that you didn't have time to read it, but it's been hours since I gave it to you. Couldn't you have found a few minutes to look it over? Especially after I went to such lengths to get it to you? " Hawke's voice was strident now too.

"I wanted to…I just didn't get around to it." Fenris grounded his teeth together. He did want to read her note, for more reasons than one. He really wished that Hawke would just let the matter go, rather than continue to pour salt over his wounds by reminding him of his illiteracy.

"Oh? What kept you so busy that you couldn't spare a minute to see what I had to say? I saw you pacing around. Were you thinking of how you could unload me here in Ansburg and leave me behind?"

"No! Don't be ridiculous!" His ire provoked, Fenris leveled a glare at his mageling. "I would think that you know me better than that," he said icily.

"I thought I did know you better, but I guess not." Hawke curled her hand into fists. "I'm wasting my time here and yours. I'll be going now. I know when I'm not wanted."

She moved back towards the window, but Fenris was quicker and was able to block her way. "Not wanted?" he repeated her last two words. "That's…that's—"

"Ridiculous?" she suggested for him. "I would have thought that as little as an hour again. However the ever-so warm welcome I've received from you has convinced me otherwise."

"Hawke…." Fenris trailed off, not knowing what to say. Hawke had crossed her arms and was looking belligerently up at him. An apology was in order here, although a small part of him whispered that she had started their argument. "I'm sorry," he said. "When I saw you out there, I was scared. I wouldn't know what to do without you. I reacted poorly, and for that, I apologize."

Hawke chewed her lower lip, leaving Fenris in agony as he waited to hear whether she accepted his apology or not. "Those are…that is to say…well you sound very sincere, and I want to believe you. I guess I do in this matter," she said. Fenris let out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding, but Hawke dashed his hopes with her next words. "That doesn't change the fact that you've been distant these last couple of days."

"Out of necessity only. We have roles to play here in Ansburg, Hawke, and those roles dictate how familiar I can be with you. I don't like having to watch you be pawed by those noble sons, but I'm afraid I have little choice given the job we've accepted."

"But even when we're alone, you keep away from me. Like in the library this afternoon. It was only the two of us, but you refused even to get close to me."

"The library was hardly safe for an assignation given that anyone could walk in on us. And someone did, in case you've forgotten," he pointed out.

Hawke rolled her eyes. "There was plenty of time before that. Besides there were plenty of nooks and crannies for us to hide in. I tried to point a couple out to you, but you were oblivious."

Fenris winced. So the mageling had been flirting with him back in the library with her conversation and compliments. He hadn't caught on to that at the time. "You were very subtle," he said, a note of accusation in his voice.

"Too subtle," she agreed. "I like to think that I wasn't subtle in the note, seeing that I told you how much I…well go see for yourself." She waved a hand at the letter.

"I would rather you tell me," Fenris said quickly.

To his surprise, Hawke's response was to blush deeply. "I…I…" She shook her head. "It's embarrassing what I wrote, now that I think about it. I was far too forward—"

"Seeing how your subtle attempts didn't work, I find it hard to believe that you were too forward," said Fenris. "Tell me, what did you write?"

She shook her head again. "No. If you really want to know, you can read it." She looked down at her shoes. "There are some things that are hard to say, you know. Especially when it comes to," Hawke's blush deepened and she made a vague gesture with her hand, "certain…activities."

"I see." Fenris' gaze cut over to her letter and then back to the mageling. Now he really wished that he could read it. Evidently Hawke had written something she considered steamy, but he would never know it. "I would read it if I could," he mumbled to himself.

Though he had been speaking softly, Hawke's keen ears still picked up his words. "What? What do you mean that—"

"It's nothing, Hawke," he said sharply.

"It doesn't sound like it's nothing. Why can't you read it anyway? Isn't it over there?" Hawke asked. Then she let out a small cry as she clasped her hands together. "Oh no! Don't tell me that you bumped into someone and my letter fell down and you went to retrieve it only to find that the letter you picked up was for that person who bumped into you and that they got the one that I wrote to you!"

Fenris stared at his mageling. Her suggestion was so far-fetched. He couldn't believe how she could imagine such an improbable situation so easily. Before he could say anything, Hawke had brushed past him and made a beeline for the letter. She picked it up and scanned its contents, letting out a sigh of relief as she realized that he hadn't lost her letter.

"Oh thank the Maker, you didn't lose it," she said, turning around to face him once more. Her brow furrowed, she looked from the letter to Fenris. "Although that still leaves the question of why you didn't read it," she added pointedly.

There was no hope for Fenris, and he knew it. Hawke was feeling stubborn, and she wasn't about to let go of the topic. He cast about, trying to find a suitable lie he could tell her, but he found that there was none he wanted to use. It was time for him to come clean. She would undoubtedly try to write to him again during their stay in the castle, and eventually she would find out that he was unable to use such a mode of communication. It was better for her to hear the truth from him rather than find out in some other way.

He just hoped that she wouldn't be too disappointed in him.

"I can't read," he said simply. "Slaves in Tevinter are not allowed to learn."

Hawke gasped. Her eyes grew wide as she asked, "You can't read? Then why didn't you tell me?"

"I…." Fenris didn't know how to answer that. There were so many reasons why he hadn't told her—because he didn't want to disappoint her, because he didn't want her pity, because he felt ashamed. "There were many reasons," he finally settled on saying, not going into any further detail.

Hawke stared at him for a long moment, but Fenris couldn't meet her eyes. He was too scared of what he might see in them. After a minute, Hawke sighed and put the letter down. She crossed over to Fenris and stood before him. "Would you like to learn?" she asked him.

"Of course!" The reply fell from his lips unbidden.

"Good. Then I can teach you," said Hawke. She beamed up at him, her smile illuminating the room with its brilliance.

Fenris blinked, taken aback by her offer. He did want to learn how to read, but he wasn't sure about Hawke teaching him. While she was kind, the mageling wasn't the most patient of people. Fenris didn't know how quickly he would pick up reading, and he didn't want Hawke to think he was an idiot if he learned slower that she would have liked. However he had to respond to her somehow, and already he had taken too long.

"I appreciate the offer," he said slowly, "but I do think we have our hands full at the moment. Maybe at a later—"

"No," she said firmly. "Something big like this shouldn't be put off. It will only make you more nervous in the end. Although," she wrinkled her nose and started twiddling her fingers together, "I've never really taught anyone before. Well anything significant as I did show Bethany how to toss a fireball. So in a way, we'll both be learning."

Hawke's admission did little to assuage Fenris' fears. He smiled wanly at his mageling as he sought a way to politely refuse her. He appreciated the offer—it showed just how much Hawke cared for him to offer to teach someone like him—but at the same time, he didn't want to burden Hawke with his shortcomings, especially as it wasn't clear if she was suited to deal with them.

"What's wrong?" she asked him. "You sounded so eager a moment ago, but now…now you're hesitating."

He mentally searched for an excuse to give her but couldn't think of anything good. "I just think…teaching might me be difficult at the moment. It's not as though we have the materials for such a thing."

Hawke raised an eyebrow up at him. "We're in a castle with ready access to parchment and ink. That's all we really need. What's more, I am supposed to be spending a good chunk of my time in the library surrounded by books. It will be easy enough to sneak out reading materials for you."

Fenris felt the urge to wince. Hawke had done a banner job in nailing his feet to the ground. One could hardly argue with her reasoning, not when it made so much sense, and so he would have to come clean to her once again. "Thank you. I…appreciate the offer. However—"

"You want to learn but you don't want me to teach you?" she put in.

He hastened to reassure her. "It's not that," he said. "I just fear…I might be slow and you…I don't want you to lose faith in me if I'm not clever enough to pick up on it quickly."

"I see." The room was silent for a moment as Hawke processed his response. "How about this? I promise you that I won't lose faith in you or think any less of you if you don't pick up on reading quickly. After all," she said with a shrug of her shoulders, "it's my first time teaching anyone something intensive. The fault might very well lay with me especially as I know you're an intelligent man."

"However," she went on without giving Fenris a chance to respond, "I'm afraid I can't say the same, that I won't be disappointed in you, if you're so scared of failure that you don't even try."

"That is…rather direct," Fenris told her. He had thought Hawke had him cornered before but now he was truly trapped. Still her point was irrefutable. Fear of failure was a stupid excuse not to try and better oneself.

"Very well," he said, conceding his loss. Though he remained fearful about what Hawke might think if he proved to be stupid when it came to reading, there was also a part of him that was excited. His inability to read was the most prominent reminder of his life as a slave; indeed it was the last shackle he had yet to shed. If he could become proficient in reading and writing, then that would be another step taken in learning how to live as a free man.

His mind started to fill with visions of him not only being able to read the slip of paper that Hawke had passed him but also able to respond in kind. It was hard not to feel a little excited at that prospect. "When should we start?" he asked.

"Not tonight as I'm afraid I didn't the foresight to bring any ink or parchment. Not unless you have those things here." Hawke looked at him hopefully, but he shook his head.

"No, I don't. I never had any need for any writing supplies, so unless this room's last occupant left any lying around, then there is none to be had," he said.

"I guess that means we will have to start tomorrow, most likely in the library. I will also make sure to bring over some writing supplies so you can practice when I'm not around."

"Practice?" he echoed.

"Yes. It takes practice to perfect a skill, does it not?" she asked with a vague wave of her hand.

"That it does," he agreed readily. His hopes began to rise as he occurred that this new endeavor of theirs might not turn into the disaster he feared. He had to wonder how effective it would be for him to practice outside without Hawke around to correct his mistakes, and he voiced that thought to her.

"It should be quite effective, I think," she replied, full of confidence in that answer. "I don't think you'll be able to practice reading on your own at the start, but you can practice writing."

"I don't need to know how to write. Reading will be enough," Fenris put in. Learning how to read sounded challenging enough, and he didn't want to muck things up by having to learn to write as well.

"They're both part and parcel of the same package. If you know how to read, you know how to write. You can't know how to do one without the other," she said. He gave her a look that made it clear how believable he found that assertion, and so she continued with her explanation. "It's kind of like learning how to fight with a blade. There are basics that you need to know, such as how to draw it. After one gets past that, however, it would be very foolish to try to learn how to attack without learning how to defend."

Fenris' brow wrinkled as he turned that analogy around in his mind. "That makes sense," he said cautiously before offering Hawke a slight smile. "In any case, I will have to rely upon your good judgment in this matter for you're the expert in such things while I am the novice," he noted. It was very much a reverse of their usual roles for in the past, he had taught Hawke how to wield a dagger and he had tried to show her how to cook. Now she would be the teacher while he would be the student.

"You can trust me," she told him, her demeanor solemn, as her eyes met his. Fenris nodded his head, reassured by what he saw in her gaze. Hawke was very loyal, and he had no reason to doubt her commitment to him. She would not abandon this endeavor, no matter how difficult it might become, even if teaching him wound up being a difficult task indeed.

Hawke sighed loudly, distracting Fenris from such thoughts. "So," she said, shifting awkwardly about on her feet, "now that that's settled, I guess I should go back." Despite her phrasing, it was a question more of a statement.

Fenris blinked in surprise. It hadn't occurred to him, in the heat of their argument, that they had been wasting precious time. Who knew when they would get an opportunity to be alone like this again, because he didn't want Hawke to be making regular trips from her room to his by leaping across the window ledge. She was lucky that the night were warmer now, otherwise she would have risked catching cold dressed in the light dressing gown that she was in.

At that thought, Fenris' eyes were immediately drawn to Hawke. The thin, white gown did little to conceal her figure. His gaze roved across his mageling's curves, lingering lovingly over her breasts. It had been such a long time since he had been able to see so much of Hawke. Now that she was here, he hardly wanted to see her go. Go she would, however, unless he spoke up and soon.

"I don't think that there is any particular rush for you to return to your room," he said. "You barely got here."

Hawke shot him a disbelieving look. "I've been here longer than you think, Fenris. Besides I at least have a long day ahead of me. I wonder how long it will take before Lady Elsa tires of trying to make a lady out of me?"

"I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you," Fenris told her.

"Thanks. You really do know how to comfort a girl, don't you?"

The elf perked up at the opening that Hawke gave him, but he was too slow to take it. Before he could offer to personally console her, Hawke had moved on. "Oh well. I suppose a good night's sleep will do me a world of good," she noted, half to herself.

Fenris could feel his chance slipping away yet again, but he wasn't about to give up. "You can spend the night here if that will help."

"I appreciate the offer, but I don't know if that is wise. Shouldn't we be more careful about not getting caught?"

If he didn't know better, he would have said that Hawke was being intentionally difficult. "Nobles are used to soft living, unlike the two of us. Most of them have never had to get up before dawn for any reason. I am certain that between the two of us, we will be able to get you back to your room before anyone notices."

That suggestion earned him an eye roll from his mageling. Fenris was beginning to be convinced that Hawke was being stubborn on purpose. "Does that include the servants?" she asked sharply.

"But of course," he replied quickly. He winced as he realized that his tone had been harsher than it should have been. "My apologies," he said to Hawke. "I didn't mean to be so abrupt. I…I was rather rude earlier as you pointed out. I feel terrible for not being more welcoming when you arrived, and I would appreciate the chance to apologize." That came out more stiffly than he intended, but Fenris still thought it was a good start.

Evidently he was right about that. The tension flowed out of Hawke's shoulders as she visibly relaxed. "Oh Fenris," she said softly. "There is no need for you to apologize."

He shook his head. "I was scared and took that out on you. I shouldn't have done that. I'd like to make amends."

"There's no need for that, Fenris, really." Hawke smiled up at him. "It was a misunderstanding, that's all and—" Suddenly she paused, her brow furrowing with thought. "Wait a minute," she said, tapping one finger against her chin while looking at him critically. "Just what did you have in mind when you offered to make amends?"

Fenris shrugged his shoulders. He really hadn't planned out any specifics past getting Hawke to stay with him. "You've had a long day so I thought that I could help you relax," he offered.

The mageling covered her face with her hand and sighed. "Why do I get the feeling that helping me relax involves the two of us in bed together?"

He stiffened at those words. Hawke sounded as though she wasn't too enamored with that idea, and that stung Fenris' male pride. "Why? Is that idea such an awful thing?"

"Oh, it's hardly awful. Quite the opposite really. Or at least, it would be if I wasn't so blasted tired."

"Which is why I thought you would appreciate some help in relaxing," the elf was quick to point out.

"Fenris," Hawke all but whined. "I don't know how to put this, but I'm tired. Which means that I don't have the energy for anything but sleep tonight."

He was about to try to convince her again when he took another look at her. While Hawke was heartbreakingly lovely—as always in his view—he could see that his mageling was having trouble keeping her eyes open. Apparently their argument hadn't taken the last of her energy, and he only had himself to blame. There was no point in continuing to try and seduce her, not when she was clearly too worn out to be interested.

Despite reaching that conclusion, Fenris wasn't about to let Hawke go. He wanted to have her near him even if he couldn't have her. "You do seem rather exhausted, Hawke, but that's all the more reason for you to stay. It's not safe for you to make the trip back when you're nearly dead on your feet."

"I would hardly go that far," said Hawke.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. Fenris wasn't used to baring his heart—particularly not twice in one night—but for Hawke, he would do anything. "Will you stay?" he asked. "I've missed you and I…don't want to let you go just yet."

A flush spread across Hawke's cheeks, staining it pink. Her hands fluttered up to cover her mouth. "Oh!" she cried. "That's…that's…."

Whatever it was enough to make her fly into his arms, right where she belonged. He embraced her tightly. She buried her head against his chest with her hair tickling his chin. Having her so close to him was a comfort. He could feel all the tension and stress of the last few days melting away.

"That is quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me," Hawke said. Her voice was slightly muffled, but he could hear her just fine. A blush appeared on his face, twin to her own, as she continued on in the same vein. "That's what I lo—I mean that's what's best about you. You're prickly like a hedgehog, but you're one of the most caring persons I know."

Fenris wasn't about to challenge Hawke's claim although he knew it to be wrong. One argument a night was more than enough for him, and so he wasn't going to fight with Hawke if she insisted on believing that he was better than he actually was. The truth was that Hawke was the only one he cared about. He hadn't exactly been close to any other slaves back in Tevinter due to his position, and while he had felt gratitude and maybe even something akin to friendship towards the Fog Warriors, that had not been enough in the end. What he felt for Hawke was different though, a combination of friendship and something more. Before he met Hawke, he had no concept that it was possible to long for someone so much while simultaneously wishing to protect them from all harm. It was nigh frightening, what he felt for her, but he wouldn't give it or her up for the world.

"I've missed you too," Hawke said softly. That confession was like music to Fenris' ears. "I would love to stay here. You don't mind if we don't—"

"Not at all, Hawke." Those words rolled right off of Fenris' tongue. While ideally he would have liked to have taken advantage of having Hawke in his bed, the most important thing was to have her there.

"All right then. I don't want to oversleep though. Will you wake me in the morning?"

"Of course. You don't even have to ask."

That promise brought a smile to Hawke's face, one that she wore to bed. With her cuddled up beside him, Fenris easily found the sleep that had eluded him earlier that evening.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> Well hopefully it's not too disappointing that the evening didn't end the way Fenris wanted. Anyway thanks for reading. I'd appreciate it ever so much if you'd leave a review and let me know what you think.


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